Riverside
by Layla-V
Summary: K/S: Jim invites Spock to join him at his family home during Enterprise's return to Earth during holidays, where his mother unexpectedly shows up. Things have never been easy between the two of them and now Spock is caught in the middle.
1. Chapter 1

**Riverside, Part 1 of 4**

Captain James T. Kirk was coming out of the Botany lab, his eyes on the PADD that contained the final senior crew manifest with details on where they could be reached during the down time, when he noticed the discrepancy.

Half his mind was on his prolonged farewell to Sulu, which had taken far longer than it had any right to, only because the helmsman had seemed more disinclined to leave his Forgassia Pitcher Plant behind than Jim would've expected. The plant apparently needed not only continuous care but also a specialized gravitational environment as well which had been created for its survival in the Botany lab. The former was the reason why Sulu was sad to leave, even though the technicians left in charge of the lab had assured him of their vigilance towards not only the Forgassia but the hundreds of other plant species stored there, and the latter was why he could not take it with him.

Jim couldn't help but roll his eyes at the drama. It was the holiday season, for God's sake. _Enterprise_ had returned home, and was docked at Earth Station McKinley for scheduled mid-season repairs and upgrades, which would take the next two weeks. Everyone who had their heads screwed on right should have been looking forward to getting off the ship for twelve days - which clearly meant Sulu was kind of crazy. But then Jim already knew that.

And, according to the latest schedule in his hand, Sulu wasn't the only one.

Bones had already departed earlier in the morning. He was staying with his folks in Jackson, and in an unexpected turn, his ex-wife, had allowed little Joanna to visit her daddy for Christmas. Jim knew how excited his best friend was, even if he tried not to show it. Chekov was off to his hometown of Zhukovsky, Uhura was leaving this evening to spend time with her family in Kenya, and Scotty was leaving tomorrow morning for home in Aberdeen.

That left just the last contenders on Jim's list: himself and Spock. And, until this morning, he'd thought his First Officer was going to spend the time off with his mother's family in Canada. That's what had shown in the senior crew manifest.

But not anymore. Now, the schedule had been changed to show Spock's location during the repairs to be aboard the _Enterprise_. It had to be a mistake.

Jim stepped up to a comm. panel and pressed his fingers to the screen. "Kirk to Commander Spock."

"Spock here, Captain."

"Where are you?"

"I am in Science Lab 2."

Jim looked down at the PADD. "Weren't you supposed to leave for Ontario half an hour ago? You're visiting your family there, aren't you?"

There was a small pause, and then Spock replied. "That had, indeed, been my initial plan. However, the family members I was planning on visiting there had to go off-planet yesterday and, hence, are not currently on Earth."

Jim frowned as he scrolled through the list. "There's no one else there you can visit?"

Another pause and now he could hear the hesitancy in Spock's voice. "No one who I am close enough to impose an impromptu visit on, no, Sir."

"Oh." Jim stared at the panel, his eyes squinting as he thought of what could be done. There was no way he was going to let anyone spend their down time tied to the ship - let alone Spock, who worked harder than most people he knew. He deserved a break; they all did. The pause was less than three seconds, and in those three seconds, a germ of an idea began to take seed in his mind - an idea he'd thought of earlier but hadn't had a chance to ponder on in detail. But it could be done. In fact, it was fantastic.

But the pause was enough to give Spock the chance to continue. "There is no need for concern, Jim," the First Officer said softly. "It will be more useful if I stayed here. The repair crews assigned by the station are scheduled to begin arriving in 2.3 hours." The furrow began to deepen between Jim's brows. "I can supervise their progress, and Lt. Commander Scott will be coordinating from the surface during the next twelve days. As such, it would be more efficient if..."

"Stop, Spock," Jim interrupted him. "Hold that thought."

"...Captain?"

"Hold. That. Thought. _Spock_," Jim insisted. "And don't move from your spot. I'm on my way."

And he was moving before Spock could reply. It took three minutes for him to get into the turbolift and onto Deck 6, and then to Science Lab 2. By that time, the doors were opening and he was walking inside to face his audience of one, his decision was made. All he had to do was get Spock on board.

Which he did, as he found his First sitting at one of the consoles with a PADD in hand, looking up at Jim expectantly. "Okay." Jim nodded at him. "You were already packed to go, right? Good. Grab your stuff."

Spock's left eyebrow rose. "Jim?"

"You're coming with me."

The other brow rose up as well. "Coming with you... where?"

"To my home in Iowa." Jim smiled. "In Riverside."

Spock's brows drew together as he stared at Jim's face. "Jim, there is no need for-"

"Spock!" Jim cut him off again. "Listen to me. The repair crews know their jobs. There's no need for our supervision until the last few days of reintegration, and that's more than twelve days from now. There's no point in any of us staying on the ship all this time." He cocked his head, smiling. "Besides, I'm going to be all by myself at the farmhouse. You can keep me company."

Spock looked at him closely. "I keep you company in your off-duty hours on the ship. I would think you would prefer a change during the holidays."

Jim laughed. "Yeah, that's what you think. The only reason I didn't ask you earlier is because I thought you were visiting your family."

Spock stared at him quietly for a few moments, his eyes probing. "You would be by yourself?"

"Yeah, it's a big place." Jim took a step forward as he looked down at his friend, his tone imploring. "I'd rather not spend the holidays alone, honestly."

He watched the corner of Spock's lips quirk as the half-Vulcan assimilated all the information, and Jim fought the smile he could feel begin to form on his face. After a moment, Spock straightened in his seat and nodded. "Then, if it would not be too inconvenient for you, Captain, I accept your invitation. It would be an honor for me to accompany you to your family home."

Jim allowed the smile to finally break on his face. "That's more like it, Mr. Spock. So, let me ask you again: are you packed?"

"Affirmative."

"Good. Meet me in transporter room 2 in half an hour."

"Yes, Captain."

With a nod, Jim turned to leave. As he was about to cross the threshold and step out, he paused and turned his head. "And Spock?" He watched the First Officer look back at him. "Your presence is never an inconvenience."

Spock's only response was to tilt his head.

Smiling, Jim let the door close behind him.

Jim made the necessary calls to accommodate the changes in his plans and threw in the last few items, including the PADDs containing reports he'd been reading, into his duffle bag. Their main luggage had already been beamed down to the Riverside base, and so, all things in order, he walked into the transporter room, wearing his dark green fleece. And abruptly stopped at the sight before him.

Spock was already in the transporter room and judging by the ensign at the control boards, Jim's attention wasn't the only one caught by his attire. A long, black, padded parka that came almost to his knees, made in what appeared to be the softest mix of leather, and some synthetic material that just begged to be stroked and caressed, it looked so amazingly soft. And Spock – cutting a tall, graceful figure, as he stood at attention, the strap of a holdall secure over his shoulder.

An uncontrollable grin breaking on his face, Jim wolf-whistled as he looked his First Officer up and down, causing the young ensign at the controls to smother her giggles behind her hand. "Wow. Looking chic, Mr. Spock."

The half-Vulcan's brows came together in puzzlement as he looked down at his outfit. "'Chic', captain?"

"Stylish." Jim smiled. "That's a very nice coat."

Spock straightened even more as he stared at him. "The garment is merely meant to be functional. Considering the extreme weather warnings in the part of Iowa we are beaming down to, I wished to be prepared."

"Of course, Mr. Spock." Jim nodded solemnly as he adjusted the strap of his duffel bag and climbed onto the transporter platform, waiting for Spock to join him. Once they were both in position, he nodded to the ensign at the controls, watched her smile at them as she clicked on the panel. He felt the corners of his own lips curl, as he murmured softly, "It's still very stylish."

He actually heard the deep breath Spock took before slowly exhaling. "If you say so, Captain."

"Oh, I _insist_, Commander."

Jim was still grinning as the whirl of the transporter beam captured the two of them and they were beamed down to the surface.

* * *

It was after dusk in Riverside by the time Jim and Spock collected their bags and walked out of the Starfleet building. The captain had chuckled when Spock had taken out his thick fur-lined gloves and woolen scarf to put them on, his eyes flashing with merriment.

But then, he himself had quietly taken out his own sets and wrapped himself carefully, mumbling about the _cold, freezing windy weather_, as he led Spock out to the waiting vehicle. It was a late model hovercar that Jim had booked for the duration of their visit, and Spock felt himself relax when they deposited their bags in the backseat and finally settled inside the heated interior.

Jim drove and kept a verbal commentary going as he led them out of the 'fleet premises and onto a long stretch of road that headed into the city. It was already dark outside and all Spock could see was the headlights of the hovercar lighting up the asphalt of the road ahead as they passed what appeared to be fields of vegetation on both sides of the road. He answered Jim's teasing remarks with short but appropriate rejoinders, not wanting to distract him too much while he was driving in the dark.

Spock had been to Riverside while the _Enterprise_ was being constructed, but his visit then had been confined to staying at the Base. This was the first time he was going to see the actual city.

Spock did not think his decision to accept Jim's invitation to join him at his ancestral home would prove to be unwise. He trusted the easy camaraderie he shared with the captain. In fact, he would go so far so as to admit that Jim had become the one person in his life who he could trust with any part of himself. However, despite his Vulcan heritage, he was candid enough with his own feelings, private as they may have been, to not deny that, initially, he had been a little surprised to feel such ease with the revelations he had recently experienced.

When the realization had hit him, exactly 8.93 months ago, that the affection he felt for his comrade and captain had crossed the realm of simple friendship and become something more, he had expected things to become difficult. It had only been 2.6 months since that he and Nyota had ended their romantic affiliation, and Spock had still been cautiously navigating the emotional minefield that a 'post-breakup' scenario had the potential to be, when the understanding had dawned on him.

What had helped was the fact that he and Nyota had quickly found their rhythm back to the friendship which had been the cornerstone of their relationship, so when the realization about his feelings for Jim had come, Spock had managed to ride out the aftershocks without any outward signs. His emotional control had stayed firm, and Jim remained unaware of his one-sided feelings. Spock had no reason to believe that Jim would be interested in him in any way more than as a comrade, and found enough comfort in the generosity the captain showed him as a friend to not wish to cause a disturbance where none was necessary.

He had not been exaggerating when he had told Jim that they spent a majority of their free hours together. Whether it was sharing meals, or finishing reports, or socializing with other members of the crew, most of Jim's and Spock's off duty hours were spent in each other's company. Add to that the thrice-weekly chess nights, or the hours spent discussing their ship and crew-related issues, or talking about the political aspects of the Federation Council's latest decisions resulting in whichever debacle _Enterprise_ or one of the other ships was ordered to take care of, and... well. They did not always agree on everything they talked about, but it was the passion behind their debates, and sometimes arguments, which Spock found so invigorating.

They had fallen into an easy amity within months of the start of their mission. That was over two years ago. The initial doubts and illogical resentment that had been leftover from the _Narada_ incident, had slowly given way to hard-earned trust and companionship that Spock quietly but pointedly treasured.

So, it was not difficult to be Jim's friend. The captain was an intelligent, insightful, and compassionate being, and a strong and capable leader, as well as a truly good friend. And if, deep down inside, Spock's heart desired more than was possible from the situation, it was not worth disturbing what was a perfectly equitable and companionable, though platonic, relationship that had taken genuine effort to develop to this point. Over the last few months, Spock had mastered the act of taking everything Jim said or did in stride, and tried not to let the, dare he say, _emotions_ his captain drew out in him affect his daily functions on the ship.

Still, there were moments when Spock found it hard to look away from Jim's face - moments when the captain was talking with great passion about one of his interests, his hands gesturing animatedly, the cadence of his voice vibrating with emotion; or when Spock caught him laughing at an unexpected joke, his eyes flashing in merriment, his mouth open wide with bright white teeth showing. Moments when even Spock's Vulcan resolve came close to being shaken. They were rare, but they existed.

However, they did not detract from the friendship the two of them had groomed and Spock intended to keep it that way. His Vulcan discipline ensured that he would keep his emotions at bay. That was all he had to do. He had decided some time ago that he would not disturb the status quo.

By the time they entered the city premises, it had started to snow. The atmospheric indicator on the car's computer confirmed that the temperature outside had dropped to -10 degrees Celcius, and Spock was indeed grateful for the car's modern heating system. He hoped the Kirk family home had adequate temperature controls. While his human side appreciated the opportunity to experience a traditionally 'wintery' holiday experience, his Vulcan half was not too fond of being subjected to extreme bouts of cold.

The captain navigated the streets easily, as they passed the city center, the neon lights in the commercial facilities blinking in the dark, the sidewalks occupied by individuals of all ages and colors as they went about their business of entering and leaving recreational facilities, dining establishments, and shopping venues. The crowds appeared mostly human, with an occasional alien face making an appearance—a single Andorian in Starfleet uniform going into a thrift shop; two Deltans walking together; even an Orion amidst a crowd of human males in dark suits. Before Spock could speculate on their presence, Jim had turned onto a street that appeared to be leading away from the commercial area.

They moved out of the city center, the snow coming down harder now, and onto another long stretch of road, this one dotted with farmhouses, most of them built in the style of late century designs and distanced by a few dozen meters of land. The buildings passing by became less frequent, the farmlands in between more diverse and widespread and soon they were only coming across an occasional farmhouse on either side every minute.

After approximately 15.2 minutes of driving in this state, with the vista before them covered entirely in snow, they finally reached their destination.

As Jim directed the vehicle up the curving driveway, Spock allowed himself the chance to survey the edifice looming up before him. The house appeared to be of a fairly large size, double-storied, and built in a fashion that had undoubtedly been in style in this part of America since the last four hundred years. The building was surrounded by tall trees covered in snow, as well as several smaller structures built around the land that no doubt served some function which Spock could not decipher at this point.

The windows on both the levels of the house were lit, and, as the vehicle came to a stop a few meters away from the small flight of stairs leading up to the entrance, the front door was flung open and a human male came charging out of the house. Before Spock could react, Jim had turned off the ignition, thrown open his door, and was out of the car.

"Walter!" he greeted loudly as Spock opened his door and slowly got down and closed the car door.

"James!" the human, whom Spock could now see was middle-aged with graying hair, had wrapped the captain in an embrace, which was being enthusiastically returned by the younger man. "It's been too long, kid!"

"Definitely." Jim was grinning, his happiness apparent. Spock felt a little awkward standing to the side, watching the warm reunion, but there was a frisson of contentment in his chest at his friend's apparent joy. "Man, it's so good to see you," Jim murmured as he squeezed the other human in his arms affectionately, before pulling away and turning to face the half-Vulcan with a big smile.

"Spock, this is Walter McLean, the Kirks' long time caretaker, administrator, miracle worker, manager, and over all custodian for our... estates." He moved to stand next to Spock and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Walter, this is my friend Spock. He's the one who keeps me sane in space and makes sure everything's rearing to go. He's in Starfleet too."

"Yes, of course." McLean smiled kindly at him, his eyes warm, but did not offer a handshake, instead, giving a nod in greeting. "Hello, Mr. Spock, how are you?"

Spock nodded politely, grateful for the human's consideration. He absently noted that the warmth of Jim's hand on his shoulder provided a curious comfort. "I am well. How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you." He smiled. "Doing much better now since I have the resident genius finally returned to the family." He turned to Jim and shook his head. "This guy hasn't been back in... what has it been? Four years?"

"Yeah," Jim sighed, and Spock found his brow rising in his forehead at the words as Jim dropped his hand, his voice turning wistful. "It's good to be back."

"It's _wonderful_ to have you back." McLean moved to open the car's backdoors. "Come on, give me your bags, both of you."

Jim immediately sprang into action. "Hey, we can manage, it's no big deal."

"Hush," the human said, grabbing two cases as Spock attempted to take his bags from his hands. "No, I've got it, Spock. I've got to make sure you kids get settled in nicely; I'm only here till tomorrow."

The three of them bantered back and forth, shifting bags in hands as they climbed the four stairs and entered the house. Jim finally manhandled his bags out of Walter's hands but stopped Spock with a raised hand when he attempted to do the same, and, with an imperceptible sigh, Spock acquiesced. Apparently, it was considered a gesture of human hospitality to carry the guests' luggage.

"Hey, how's Laura doing? Still the heartbreaker, I bet?" Jim asked his friend as they entered what appeared to be the foyer, with a door to the right which seemed to open into a hall closet, and a larger door which made way to a wide and open living space, furnished with couches and chairs, with a dining area visible from behind a glass partition. An old-fashioned fireplace was set aflame with burning coal and pieces of wood, making the interior of the house comfortably warm. A flight of stairs leading to the upper level was right in front of the main door.

"Of course, she is; breathtaking as ever." McLean replied, his voice light with laughter. "She misses you so much; Shaun and Mel too, though they tell me you've been in touch with them."

"As much as subspace communications can let me be," Jim replied. "I miss them too. I miss all of you." Again the wistfulness was apparent in Jim's voice, and Spock again felt curiosity at the discussion between the two humans. Four years had indeed been a long time in between home visits. He wondered why Jim had not made the time more often, if he missed his friends so much.

"I know, kid." Walter was quiet for a moment, his eyes strangely sympathetic as he looked at Jim's face. Then he smiled brightly and patted Jim's arm as he turned and lead them towards the stairs. "C'mon, I've got your rooms ready. I made up the main guest bedroom upstairs for Spock, the one right next to yours."

"Thanks, Walter." Jim smiled back at him as they followed him. "We appreciate it."

* * *

By the time they got settled into their rooms, it was well past nine.

Jim checked on Spock to make sure he found everything to his comfort, which the half-Vulcan affirmed, and the two made their way downstairs. Jim went out to get the hovercar parked inside the covered carport, then came back.

Dinner consisted of sandwiches, juice from the fridge, and fresh salad made from produce grown in the kitchen garden. Walter informed them he had stocked the freezer with both vegetarian and non-vegetarian foods, both uncooked and ready-to-eat, for their stay, with just a few more things left that he intended to get the next day before he took off for the holidays.

After dinner was finished and the table was cleared, everyone moved to the living room with the fireplace roaring, and continued talking late into the night. Walter had many questions about their life in space that Jim and Spock were happy to answer, and Jim watched with a sense of warmth as Walter drew Spock into a discussion about the cultural impact of the Starfleet Riverside base on the local town life. Jim let the warmth of the food and the conversation settle into his bones as he listened to the conversation, adding his own point of view from time to time.

God, he'd missed this. He'd missed coming home, and Walter and all his other friends.

There were still too many memories associated with this house. A haze of recollections, both good and bad. But maybe enough time had now passed between those events and the present that the good memories could finally outweigh the bad ones. He certainly hoped so. He'd missed this place.

The house was in his name, given to him by old man Tiberius himself. Of course, Jim had never really had any use for the lands. He wasn't cut out to live the farm life - he was too technically savvy, too involved with mathematics and equations and computer programming and the wonders of space exploration to ever have been satisfied by a life confined to the farms. He'd loved San Francisco when he'd gone to the academy. He loved the city life. And now he loved his life on a starship. He loved doing what he did - meeting new civilizations and species around the galaxy, and making a difference the best way he knew how.

That did not mean he didn't sometimes miss the simplicity of life in rural Iowa.

Perhaps, this visit was going to be better than the one he'd made during his first year at the academy. It ought to be, since Spock was with him. For some reason, Jim felt as if simply having Spock by his side could make anything easy to handle. He smiled to himself as he looked at his two friends talking.

Historical data surely confirmed that there was no hurdle he couldn't bypass if only he had his First Officer's help. Spock was intelligent, well-read and kind, he had a supremely analytical intellect which anyone with a modicum of intelligence would want to know; and he was one of the best scientific minds Jim had ever come across. Jim had no doubt that Spock was the best First Officer in the 'fleet. Jim realized more and more how lucky he'd been that Spock had accepted his offer to join the _Enterprise_.

There had been a point about a year or so back when Jim had been a little concerned for his friend, when, after a year of a seemingly amiable relationship, Spock and Uhura had suddenly called it quits. Jim was worried that things might prove difficult for his friends, especially Spock, for whom he felt very protective. There was just something about the half-Vulcan that brought out a defensive streak in Jim, even though he knew his First was fully capable of handling just about any situation. Maybe it was the emotional impact of a relationship lost that he wanted to spare the half-Vulcan, since he remembered how crappy that could be. Thankfully, both Uhura and Spock had bounced back from that dissolution, and remained friends, for which Jim was grateful.

Strangely, in the aftermath of all that, there had been a newfound gentleness in Spock that had previously been missing. It was as if he'd learned a lesson through the breakup, and, somehow, his life had been made the better for it.

Spock had always been a foil to Jim's more volatile emotions. But now, there was a new sense of calmness in him, which made the brashness in Jim's own heart feel somehow tempered. He knew he could toss any problem at his First Officer, and a solution would be found. Aside from Bones, who was a whole other story, there was no one he trusted more on the ship than Spock. Bones was like an older brother who berated him and drank and joked with him and called him out on his shit. Spock, on the other hand, reined Jim in when he was feeling unsettled, brought him back from the precipice whenever Jim was about to do something rash and dangerous.

Jim knew he could trust the half-Vulcan to always have his back, and that made him feel invincible. Perhaps that would be the difference on this visit. He had Spock to help keep the bad memories at bay. It was time he made some new, good memories to remember this place by.

It was almost eleven by the time their talks wound down. By then, Jim had begun to feel his eyelids drooping; it'd been a long day. Walter saw him yawning and promptly got up and started shutting down everything as Jim and Spock helped lock things up. Walter finally left with a promise to return the next day with more provisions, and both Jim and Spock made their way upstairs. Jim once again made sure Spock would be comfortable in his room and was reassured by his friend that everything was more than adequate.

Behind his own closed door, it took Jim three minutes to get out of his clothes and crawl under the warm duvets and blankets. Within minutes, he was fast asleep

* * *

Spock reviewed the astrobiology reports he'd been working on in the light of the bedside lamp. There was a fireplace in this room, but it was not in use at the moment, as the computerized temperature controls in the house had been activated. From his discussion with Walter McLean, he had ascertained that this house was over two hundred years old and had been in the Kirk family for the past four generations. However, in spite of its age, it had been modified and refitted with mostly modern amenities to generally bring things up to a somewhat contemporary level, if not to the latest technological level a Starfleet officer would be used to.

For example, aside from the water shower in the bathroom, there was also a sonic facility, for which Spock was grateful. There was also a data access point available at the work desk with which he could connect his PADD to access the Federation server, and, from there, login to the _Enterprise_'s computer if required. There was also a replicator fitted in the kitchen, which was programmed with an adequate variety of Earth cuisines and had the option to download more options from a portable device. He was informed that all this made the Kirk farmhouse fairly modern in comparison to some of the other nearby residences.

That is, as long as the weather remained conciliatory. McLean had said that since they were so far away from the city center, sometimes, during heavy snow storms, if the power was cut off, they could be stranded with no data access and no automatic temperature controls. That was why they had kept the old-fashioned kitchen amenities and the fireplaces with the house. Spock could see the logic in keeping them as a backup.

He had been intrigued by the discussion with Jim and his friend. It was obvious that the bond between the two humans was strong and familial in nature. Curiously, he had noticed that while Jim's older brother George Samuel Kirk, who was a research biologist working at the Denobulan Exobiology Institute, had been mentioned, no other member of the family was brought up. Spock had also gotten the sense that McLean was somehow cautiously choosing his words around the younger human, and, at several points had noticed him begin to say something and then stop, before giving the captain that strangely sympathetic look again.

No mention of the reasons why Jim had not visited his ancestral home had been made during the evening, which still puzzled Spock. Even when relations had been strained between his father and himself after he had declined his admission in the VSA, Spock had still visited home every year. His relationship had always been strong with his mother, and even though he was living his life as a Vulcan, his emotional connection with her had overridden any logical reasoning that might have precluded the need for regular visits home. In hindsight, considering how quickly his planet and everyone inhabiting it had been taken from him, he was grateful he had made the effort and spent that time with his mother.

Hence, he was curious about why Jim had taken so long to come back to his home. The look that came over his friend's face, every time Walter said something about the house or mentioned any of his acquaintances or talked about how much everyone had missed him, was also unusually enigmatic.

Spock wondered what mysteries his usually frank and open superior officer was hiding in his heart.

* * *

It was the moment right before the first ray of sunlight pierced the darkness of the horizon that Jim had missed the most.

In the silence and darkness of the snow-covered surroundings, all living creatures having either migrated to warmer climates or gone underground for hibernation, it was the strange stillness of the moment that almost reminded him of the silence of space. Jim remembered sitting in this exact same spot many times in the past, when he was eight, ten, fourteen years old, bundled up in multiple layers and holding a mug of hot chocolate, and watching the sunrise, and imagine himself to be onboard a starship, moving through space, the silence surrounding him as it was surrounding the freezing snow-covered firs and bushes and the buildings around him.

But there was nothing still about space. Every moment, he was in motion, moving through charted space, exploring places no one had seen before, watching stars streak by the periphery of his vision as he stood at the Observation lounge viewport to see their progress. Space was always moving, with stars aflame, nebulae expanding, planets in motion - and him on the _Enterprise_, moving right along with everything else that could not be still.

Here, on solid ground, away from the movement of space, the stillness seemed to pervade every molecule in the air surrounding him. He watched as the vista before him slowly filled with the muted, reluctant brightness of the winter sun coming alive. It had snowed heavily during the night, and there was at least four inches of new snow covering the ground, which had frozen with the dropping temperatures. Jim wrapped his arms around his body and sipped his hot coffee.

Damn, he loved winters. He loved snowfall, loved when the temperatures dropped and you were forced to wear the endless layers and the jackets to keep as much of the chill out as possible, forced to turn the heating up, forced to stay indoors, even. Loved it because he loved the sight of snow falling, starting with the first few flakes falling on the ground and melting in the grass or on the sidewalk, and then the whole horizon filling up with beautiful whiteness everywhere. That's the way Christmas was supposed to be. Not like he'd celebrated them the past four years, two of them in space and the two before that in San Francisco—serving a self-imposed sentence.

But it'd been inevitable, right? Things had never been easy for the Kirks. Those events in the past, those memories that had inundated him with a sense of misplaced self-loathing at first. All the effort and time it had taken for him to get past all the shit, to make something positive out of his life, regardless of how bad things had been at one point. Some of those things were too hurtful to even remember, filling him with a piercing ache full of indignant anger every time he'd thought about them. Memories of shouts and yells and shoves filling his brain, yanking up chaos in his mind. Filling him with confusion and fury and an incomprehensible sense of inadequacy, of betrayal.

For so long, Jim had lived with those feelings. All his bravado, all his arrogant swagger and smart-alecky bluster that had gotten him into so much trouble in his teens and before he joined Starfleet, had been a front he'd built to survive those years; to get through that sense of never being enough that had been ingrained into him from a young age - that had been a part of those memories.

But there were other memories, too - hanging out with friends and going dancing at Solo on Red Oak Avenue. Checking out the old-fashioned arcades in the ancient Township Park; playing in the corn fields; picnics along the river. Being the crazy genius in class who could solve the hardest math problems faster than anyone else, even on little sleep and underwhelming preparation.

All of it juxtaposed with other memories - being shunned for being different, too smart, never letting up, never bowing to opposition. Both good and bad mixed in the fray, making a strange amalgamation of recollections. There was always a price one had to pay for genius.

But here was a new day beginning. As Jim watched the muted light slowly roll across the horizon, the orange redness of the sunlight blinking off the frozen treetops, he wished for the peace and calmness of his surroundings to fill his being.

A brave bird suddenly called out from the frozen branch of a snow-covered fir, breaking the stillness, as Jim felt a smile begin at the corners of his lips. Movement even on solid ground. Nothing remained still forever. The universe was always expanding. That was the only constant.

He heard the creak of the stairs as his houseguest made his way downstairs and felt his smile widen. After a moment, the back door opened.

"Captain."

He laughed as he turned around to face his friend. "It's Jim, Spock. We're on vacation."

Spock inclined his head. "Very well. Jim. How did you sleep?"

"Perfectly." Jim smiled at Spock as he looked at his attire, appreciating how even bundling up in four layers of clothes didn't take away from the aristocratic elegance of his First Officer's posture. "How about you?"

"My sleep was adequate," Spock replied. "The room was quite comfortable."

"I'm glad to hear that." Jim looked at him. "I know you're not the biggest fan of cold weather, Spock, but I'm still thrilled to have you here."

Spock looked at him closely for a second, his eyes inscrutable, before tilting his head. "The feeling is mutual, Jim."

"Excellent." Jim grinned. "There's fresh coffee and tea in the kitchen. I was about to make some breakfast." He looked up at Spock with a mischievous twist to his lips. "What do you think of French toast, waffles, and juice?"

He watched an austere eyebrow rise on Spock's forehead, but there was something almost amused in those brown eyes. "Such a meal is not very nutritional... but, as you just stated, we _are_ on vacation."

"That's the spirit." Jim chuckled as he got up from his crouch, and herded his First Officer inside. "Come on. Let's go hog on some high-calorie breakfast food."

* * *

Walter returned before lunch with even more food and groceries for storage, along with other provisions they might need when the storms that were forecast to hit finally came around. There was no sight of anything threatening on the horizon at the moment, though. The day had been snowless so far, with even the sun coming out for a few minutes in the afternoon.

The whole atmosphere filled Jim with a strange giddiness. After lunch had been had and they'd said goodbye to Walter, Jim took Spock for a short tour around the grounds. He suddenly wanted to show his friend the place he'd grown up at. He'd called and made reservations at the Italian place on the old Vine Street for dinner, knowing Spock would enjoy their vegetarian selections.

Then he took Spock to see the ancient silo that had been built as part of the property in the year 2011, but which had been converted into a swimming pool in his grandfather's time, and then later on had been covered up by concrete and turned into a barn.

Some of the centuries old fixtures inside were still there. They were rusting and mostly falling apart, but to lay eyes on something that had been installed over two hundred years ago was fascinating, and seeing the interesting glint in Spock's eyes as the half Vulcan ran his tricorder over every piece of rusting metal and made notes on his PADD about the structural dimensionality of the engineering plan of the silo was a treat in itself. Though, Jim always got a phantom ache in his finger joints every time he saw Spock busy with his PADDs for hours at a go - those devices were notorious for their non-ergonomic-friendly designs, especially for Vulcan bone structure. Still, Jim knew it was like an archeological study for his crewmate, and he told Spock to feel free to come there anytime and explore anything he wanted, as he led him back outside.

Jim showed Spock the newer, covered swimming pool that was built when he was a kid, and which was obviously off-limits in this weather, cleanly swerving past the old garages—_that_ was a tour for another day; he simply didn't have the stomach to go near that place at the moment—and instead taking his friend to the stables where his grandfather had reared and trained prized stallions for decades until his death. There were no livestock or animals now on the farm, as there was no one here to take care of them fulltime. Walter only came over once a week to get things cleaned up and to make sure everything was in order. His family now lived in Iowa City, more used to urban life than toiling on the farmlands.

Spock's interest for all things new and exotic was very catching - something Jim knew he shared with the half-Vulcan. The truth was, when he'd invited Spock over, he'd only been thinking about not allowing his First Officer to spend his down time babysitting the repair crews when everyone else was enjoying holidays planetside. In his mind, leaving Spock on the ship during holidays was just not on, so he'd brought him here. He'd never really expected a city person like Spock, who'd spent his entire life amidst modern technologies, to actually enjoy his time on a rural farm. The fact that Spock had taken this chance as a challenge to learn about the simple rural life on Earth was amazing to Jim, and he told Spock so.

Spock looked at him closely for a long moment. "You realize there were farms on Vulcan, do you not, Jim?"

Jim blinked at the query. "Um, I guess."

"And that being the son of an ambassador did not preclude me from having to learn all aspects of life on our planet?" Spock continued. "This included not only the life filled with modern technology and the discipline that was part of the diplomatic lifestyle my parents were used to, but also the simple life of a common Vulcan." The corners of his mouth twitched. "A farmer, even."

Jim stared at him incredulously. "You've lived on a farm? _You_, Spock?"

One brow rose elegantly. "Indeed. During my formative years, I spent six months on a rural farm in T'Paal, as part of my training."

Jim's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"I am not," Spock replied, his eyes twinkling. "I have even milked the _Gobalish Sotor_, a mammalian species similar to Terran cows."

This revelation caused Jim to burst out laughing. "Now _that's_ a sight I would've loved to see." He chuckled. "Man, I wish there was a holovid of it somewhere."

Spock glared at him imperiously, though there was laughter in his eyes. "Then I am glad that no holographic evidence was collected."

Jim grinned. "Just my luck."

* * *

In the early evening, an hour before the sunlight would have gone and after they had had tea and Jim went upstairs to make a few calls, Spock went out for another stroll.

He spent sometime in the kitchen garden, where several birdhouses had been erected and which now were sheltering several species of Terran birds that had undoubtedly arrived to seek protection from the extreme weather. He found several specimens of _Cyanocitta cristata_, the blue jay, resting in the square wooden structures, as well as a pair of _Bombycilla cedrorum_, the cedar waxwing and a lone _Baeolophus bicolor_, the Tufted titmouse. He made notations of each discovery in his PADD, taking notice of their resting habits and social behavior.

Spock then moved past a building which Jim had curiously—and quite deliberately—avoided taking him to earlier, and moved to the edge of the woodlands, where a line of butternut trees, the _Juglans cinerea_ were growing next to tall red cedars, the _Juniperus virginiana_. He was taken out of his musings by the sound of an approaching vehicle.

He turned to see what appeared to be a yellow Terran hovercab approaching the house. After Walter had left that afternoon, he had not expected anyone else to come by the house, and as Jim had not mentioned any change in plans. He quickly made his way through the snow-covered ground, towards the front entrance of the house.

By the time he arrived, the hovercab had stopped, and a human female in Starfleet blues had disembarked from the vehicle. Spock watched as she made payment with credit chips to the cab driver, who got down to help her take the two bags out of the trunk. He noticed she was middle-aged, perhaps in her mid-fifties, with long, gray-blond hair that curled around her face. She was of a tall, slim build, and quite serious-looking for a human.

He moved into view as the hovercab turned around and left, and the female approached the front steps. She halted when she noticed him standing next to the stairs.

"Greetings." Spock inclined his head, noticing the Commander's stripes on her sleeves.

"Oh." She looked surprised. "Who are you?"

Before Spock could answer, the front door opened and Jim came out. He appeared even more shocked to see the female. "Mom!"

Spock felt his brows rise in his forehead. This was Commander Winona Kirk. _Jim's mother_.

"Jim." Winona Kirk looked just as shocked to see her son. She put down her luggage on the ground and looked up at him in what appeared to be wonder. Apparently, her visit had been quite unexpected and she had not been expecting Jim's presence here.

"What are you doing here?" The captain smiled as he stepped down to take her in his arms. "I thought the _St. Laurence_ was in the Pandaren System."

Spock watched as she returned the embrace somewhat stiffly. "Our mission got cut short." Her voice was cool. "Diplomatic incident at the Annual Communion on Vellic III. I'm sure you'll find out soon." She pulled back. "What are you doing here?"

It took only a split second, but something shifted in her eyes, and, right at that moment Spock felt the change in his captain's countenance. It was as if a light switch had suddenly been turned off.

Jim stayed quiet for a second, as he stared at his mother, his face carefully blank and then shrugged. "Mid-mission upgrade," he replied. "We're here for the next twelve days." He added after a moment, "Walter knew I was coming."

"Well, of course you would tell him." Commander Kirk picked up her bags. "Unfortunately, Walter didn't know _I_ was coming." She looked into her son's eyes, a strangely brittle look on her face. "But then, I don't have to tell him when I'm coming to my own home, do I?"

Spock suddenly felt the urge to shiver and realized, belatedly, it had nothing to do with the weather. A strange chill had settled in the air, and he did not know how to melt the frozen ice that appeared to have formed between his friend and his mother within a few moments.

"Right," Jim said, his voice cool. Then he straightened up and gestured towards him. "Mom, this is my friend Spock. He's spending the holidays with me."

Spock inclined his head in polite greeting. "Mrs. Kirk."

She looked at him coolly. "I prefer to be addressed by my rank."

Ignoring the quite visible blustering reaction her words caused from Jim, Spock straightened up and nodded. "My apologies. Commander."

"Unnecessary." She smiled at him, but somehow the expression did not reach her eyes. "Welcome to Riverside, Commander."

"Thank you."

Winona Kirk moved up the stairs, bypassing Jim who appeared to have frozen into place. "Now, where is that old bastard?"

Jim took a deep breath and turned to watch her. "Walter's spending the holidays with his family, Mom."

"Oh, how nice." She turned to look at him. "Just as we are."

Then she turned and walked inside the house, letting the door close behind her

* * *

Jim's mind felt caught in a swirling haze of confused hurt and anger.

So it was _her_ home, was it, and not his? Had she forgotten Grandpa Kirk had given this house to 'the little orphan Kirk boy'? The one who only had a father for less than two minutes of his existence? But old man Tiberius had loved him as long as he'd lived - the little one who was born in space. He loved Jim, even if his life came into existence just as his son's life had been taken from him.

Jim simply didn't know which part of the whole interaction he was to react to. Where to start - her cutting words, her cool demeanor, or the dismissive way she'd looked at him? Was it to be the rude way she'd spoken to Spock - the way she'd thrown out that she preferred to be addressed by her rank and not her dead husband's name? What exactly was he supposed to focus on here? He didn't know. There were too many things suddenly inundating his senses - an amalgam of pain and suffocating anger that made it hard to think.

He knew he needed to calm himself down. He needed to get a hold of his emotions. He needed to focus, to get himself under control.

He stood in the middle of the living room with the temperature controls turned on full, and still felt himself shiver. Maybe they needed to get the chimney going, too.

He looked at the stairs that she had climbed a moment ago, her bags in hands, her posture ramrod straight as always. He heard the sound of her movement upstairs, heard the door to her bedroom at the end of the hallway open and slam shut. Then more sounds, muted, less defined, as she moved around her room, opening closets, closing doors. And in between all that was the haze. That swirl of emotions and things he did not want to think about. Not right now, at least.

He felt movement at the periphery of his vision and it was Spock, moving to stand next to him. He turned and looked at his friend and noticed a carefully neutral expression on his face. The legendary Vulcan coolness - always present, always on hand. Spock's eyes, though, were warm and showed a modicum of concern, which, Jim realized, was only for his benefit.

But he needed that Vulcan composure right now. He needed to calm down quickly and stay calm. So he focused on his friend's presence, and imagined himself on an away mission where a wrench had suddenly been thrown in their plans. The natives were not friendly. Or, they were friendly, but a warring faction had decided to surprise them with an attack in the middle of negotiations. Spock's presence had always been able to calm him down in those situations. So he focused on that. He stopped thinking of why his mother was here and why she was acting like this, and focused instead on standing next to his First Officer and breathing. Just breathing. He could do this. He could draw strength from his friend. He didn't have to say anything. Spock wouldn't ask for any explanations - he never did. Jim could tackle all those other emotions later. Much later. Right now, he just needed his friend's presence to soothe his nerves.

After a moment, when his breathing had returned to near normal, he turned to face Spock fully and gave him a grateful smile. Spock asked him if he required anything, and Jim shook his head. The plans they'd made for dinner were no longer viable. No matter how much he didn't want to stick around and endure his mother's presence when she was in one of her moods, he wasn't sure if going out tonight would be a good idea. When he asked Spock for his thoughts, the half-Vulcan agreed.

So it was to be one of those away missions, one where you had to stay on and fight till the end instead of calling for an emergency beam out. Fine. He could do this.

His mind made, he moved towards the kitchen. "Okay. Let's try out some of those ready-to-serve items Walter stocked in the freezer."

It took him and Spock only a few minutes to take all the needed items out and get the oven going, and soon, they had a quick dinner of packaged veggie casserole, sweet corn fritters, cream chowder, and veggie burgers heating in the oven. All these dishes were traditionally Midwestern and therefore very much Terran—Jim imagined them not to be quite up to Spock's usual preferences—so he was determined to stick to non-meat varieties only. He knew Spock didn't mind him eating meat in his presence, but the man had already had enough human tradition and cuisine foisted upon him. The least Jim could do was avoid meat in the one meal Spock was helping him prepare.

By the time his mother came down, it was past seven, and dinner was ready to be laid out. She'd changed into civvies and her demeanor seemed to have thawed out slightly - enough to engage her son and his friend into idle chitchat. Jim kept his emotions in check, not wanting to think of her earlier words. He could do this. He could focus on the present. He could focus on _now_.

It all worked perfectly, until the conversation turned to Starfleet.

"So how's the mission going?" His mother looked at the two of them, her eyebrow quirked in question. "You kids playing by the rules? I haven't heard anything bad from the Starfleet Command grapevine lately, so you must be doing all right."

Jim froze and willed himself to breathe out slowly. So this was how it was going to go. He turned to look at her, clutching the fork in his hand. "Yeah, we're doing all right. You don't have to worry about us."

"I'll always worry, Jim." There was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite recognize. "I'm your mother."

So she remembered now what she was supposed to be. Jim grit his teeth and swallowed heavily. "Yeah." He pressed his lips together and looked at her. "How's Captain Watson doing? Still getting on your case?"

He saw something flash in her eyes and knew he'd hit right on the spot. He remembered how she'd always butted heads with Watson - how they'd always squabbled, and argued and caused a ruckus, even though they'd been the command pair of the _St. Laurence_ for over six years now. Theirs was like an old, dysfunctional marriage: utterly unhappy but somehow managing.

"Oh, you know Matthew," she replied, her mouth tight. "He never really changes." Which seemed to be answer enough. She turned to Spock. "Commander, how are things going on at the Vulcan colony?"

"Quite well," Spock replied, his voice calm. "The rehabilitation process will continue for many years. However, the colony has had reason to mark smaller successes recently."

Her eyes seemed to be assessing his First Officer, but her tone was at least polite. "Yes. I heard they're opening the new Science Academy."

Spock inclined his head. "It has been functional in a rudimentary sense for the past 7.5 months, but the official opening ceremony of the new academy building is in 1.3 months."

"Marvelous." She turned to Jim again. "And how is command treating you, Jim?"

"Perfectly."

"Those old boys aren't stepping on your feet too much, I hope."

He stared at her and found that annoyingly knowing look on her face. This one, he remembered all too well. This was the one that told him he'd disappointed her. That he wasn't doing what was expected of him. He was wasting his potential. It was reminiscent of a look someone else had worn on his face, many years ago. And that memory never failed to get his hackles up, every single time.

"Oh, you know how the admiralty works, right, mom?" He chewed out his words as he licked his suddenly dry lips, feeling a reckless sizzle of anger settling in his veins. "They always tend to question the younger command teams with a little disdain." He stared at her hard. "They think we're all kids, don't know shit."

She looked at him contemplatively and then slowly exhaled. "Oh, I don't know, Jim. It's not always about age. And they're not _always_ wrong."

Jim stayed silent.

* * *

Spock realized that a part of the puzzle that was his enigmatic captain had suddenly fallen into place.

He could now perhaps see why Jim had not been back home in four years. He and his mother clearly shared an uneasy relationship, and Spock found he could somewhat relate to what his friend might be going through. For the first three years of his time in the academy, his relations with Sarek, too, had been strained. It was only in the last year at the academy, and with no little effort on his mother's part to push her husband and son to work out their differences, that they had finally come to a kind of truce.

Since his mother's death and the loss of Vulcan, that truce had evolved into a much deeper level of interaction. There were so few Vulcans left, and it was logical to let go of petty differences and allow their more positive focal points to come into alignment so that they could better help their race to survive.

Right now, however, his thoughts were with his captain, and Commander Winona Kirk. The commander appeared to be a most intriguing individual, though, what Spock had been most acutely aware of during that entire encounter was the frustration Jim was exhibiting. It was coming off him in waves, which was unsurprising, considering the tension his mother seemed to be under as well. They both appeared to display different manners of coping with that stress. Winona Kirk's verbal rejoinders became snappish and overly acerbic, as the evening progressed, whereas Jim appeared to fall deeper into himself with every passing minute. Towards the end of dinner, their body languages were showing signs of barely suppressed frustration.

All this made Spock more than curious about the woman who had raised his captain and his friend, who had been a part of his life for so many years. The woman who had no doubt helped mould the child Kirk into the man he now knew as Jim. The story of George Kirk was part of Starfleet legend but there was not much known about his widow. However, she had to have a public file on record.

Spock took out his PADD and sat down on the work desk, attaching the device with the data access port. After the connection was through, he logged into the Starfleet server, noticed the weather prompt giving an update on the snowstorm that was forecasted to hit the Midwest sometime in the next twenty four hours, and moved onto the fleet officers database. With his level of clearance, it only took him a few seconds to click through the introductory screens before he opened the relevant file.

Kirk, Winona, _Commander_. Main Focus: Engineering, Secondary Focus: Command and Tactics. Age 52 standard years. Currently serving as First Officer on the _USS St. Laurence_, under the command of Captain Matthew Paul Watson.

Spock processed this information as he parsed through the file. Captain Watson was a most complicated individual. He'd had a colorful career, and in Starfleet circles, was known as one of the more volatile and rigidly obstinate personalities one ever encountered. Spock remembered Captain Pike mentioning him a few times - how Watson had a problem with authority and often needed to be reeled in during diplomatic missions. He wondered if the incident at the Annual Communion on Vellic III that Commander Kirk had mentioned had anything to do with Watson.

As for the commander herself, there were citations of notable missions, services rendered; the time she had served on the _USS Jackson_ as Chief Engineer. Spock read through everything in detail. This was mostly information he had already collected two years ago when he had worked on the disciplinary case against Jim after the _Kobiyashi Maru_ debacle. But his focus then had been on Lt. George Kirk's actions during the _Kelvin_ incident. While he had gone through Winona Kirk's records, the process had been completed with considerably less detail.

It was a fairly ordinary career. Nothing unusual had occurred in Kirk's career since the _Kelvin_ incident, aside from her serving under Watson. She was undoubtedly an exemplary officer, her record impeccable. He moved through the screens, making notes of anything he found interesting, downloading the relevant information as he went, clicking panels one after another. Finally, thinking he had gleaned all the information he could get, he moved to log out of the connection, when he noticed a link at the bottom of the screen.

Extrafleet services.

His eyebrows came together as he clicked on the link and paused at the display.

_Federation Diplomatic Corps._

As an _extrafleet activity_.

Fascinating.

* * *

That night, as Jim lay down on his bed, he found no rest at all.

It was no fucking _use_. Nothing ever changed, no matter how much time had passed - no matter how much he wished certain things to disappear, they never did. They stayed there, right under the surface, scratching to break through the thin membrane that hid a deluge of ugly memories. Always there, never totally gone.

That taint of never being good enough; of failing to make good on the Kirk name. That sense of worthlessness and inadequacy that had been forced upon him; that mantle of weakness and imperfection that he'd fought against all his life - had been fighting against ever since he'd left this town to join the academy, in order to prove his worthiness to the bigwigs at Starfleet who determined the fate of so many people. Proving it to the universe at large.

And, within a few minutes, all of that had come crumbling down. His mother's words, that it was _her_ house, had brought all those feelings crashing back into him.

The insinuation that he wasn't good enough, that he'd _never_ been good enough, was there in every breath she took. She didn't have to say it in so many words, but he could see it clearly in her eyes. The legacy of Frank Andrew Harrison still lived on. Jim had thought she didn't agree with Frank. He'd thought that was the reason why she'd gotten rid of him. But her sharp jibes and icy demeanor told a different story. It told him that, ever since he'd gotten the _Enterprise_, the reason she had never made the first move to call him was because she thought his command was nothing but a fluke.

That _he_ was nothing but a fluke.

The admiralty was wrong when it was treating Winona Kirk _neé_ Peterson as the lunatic fringe for her passionate causes, but absolutely right when it treated young Jim Kirk and his team as the wet-behind-the-ears command pair? Why did it always feel like she was judging him and finding him short of her expectations? _Why?_

His mind caught in a whirlwind, Jim stayed awake long into the night.

* * *

Christ, this was a disaster. This was not what she had been expecting. Jim always threw her off her game.

Winona closed her eyes and sighed. This was pathetic. What kind of a mother had to be 'on her game' in front of her own son? Still, this was not how she'd expected to react on seeing her boy. She had too much on her mind; that was her only excuse.

This was how she turned when she had to clean up a disaster of galactic proportions - a situation which could easily have been avoided if only that bumbling old fool had listened to her. Yep; she turned into a bitter old harpy who bit people's heads off for daring to breathe in front of her when things didn't go her way.

_Dammit_. What would Jim's friend be thinking? She knew who he was - that Vulcan who'd been on the _Narada_ mission with Jim. The one who... he'd been so integral to everything the _Enterprise_ had accomplished under Jim's command, when they'd saved Earth.

What had prompted her to act the way she did with him? And with her own son? Getting off a horrible mission didn't mean she had to make life miserable for Jim - the same son she hadn't seen in far too long. It'd been over two years since he was commissioned and had gotten the _Enterprise_. Their last meeting had been at Starfleet Headquarters after the award ceremony, when Jim had received the commendation and the rank of Captain. The atmosphere there had been very subdued in the aftermath of Vulcan's destruction. They had barely exchanged a few words and an awkward hug before she'd been called off to rejoin the _St. Laurence_. Since then, there had been the occasional comm link every now and then. Nothing satisfactory.

She really had to play nice here. Truth be told, she was happy to see Jim. But she bet he didn't think so after her performance tonight. It was just... Jim's words about the admiralty making life difficult for command pairs only reminded her of the problems she herself was facing with Watson's ineptitude. She wanted out, but it was some sections of the same admiralty that was making things hard for her. She knew Watson had lots of connections, but she wished the higher ups could get their heads out of their asses and look beyond the stupid politics and see what the man was _doing_.

But she had to do better, as far as Jim was concerned. She was going to do better. She'd missed Jim very much. She wanted this time to go better than their last few ones had gone.

She was going to work this thing out.

* * *

**Continued in Riverside Part 2 of 4**


	2. Chapter 2

**Riverside, Part 2 of 4**

The next morning, when Spock woke up, it was to the sounds of activity in the house.

It was a commotion quite in contrast to the stillness that had surrounded the house the previous day, when he had found Jim sitting on the back porch, watching the sunrise. There was sound of movement on the first level, of utensils clinking, and, even through the closed door, the aroma of cooking food wafted through.

Intrigued, he rose and went through his morning routines with his characteristic efficiency, once again thankful for the sonic unit in the bathroom as he dressed. It had snowed heavily once again during the night, and the temperature had fallen to -12 degrees. As he looked out the window, he could see a fresh coat of snow covering the ground. He clicked on his PADD still connected to the data access port, to see if he had received any messages, and felt his brows furrow when he found the device inactive. The comm link appeared to be down. The house was warm enough, however, which meant that the temperature controls were still functioning. He decided to forego his extra layers and went down in only the thick cardigan over his shirt and trousers and the underlayers he'd opted to wear.

Winona Kirk was in the kitchen, busily cooking, her demeanor cheerful and energetic—a marked difference from the previous night. As he stood and observed her exuberance from the living room, Jim too came down, wearing a dark sweater over his blue jeans, and joined him in his vigilance.

It took Commander Kirk a few more seconds before she noticed them standing there. "There you are," she called out cheerily, as she deposited the contents of the frying pan she had in her hands onto a large plate. "Breakfast's ready; come on over."

Spock felt Jim breathe in carefully next to him and looked at him. There was a strange expression on his friend's face. He appeared puzzled, but that was understandable. The commander's behavior this morning was certainly perplexing. But, after everything he had read about her the previous night, he suspected that perhaps this was more of the 'norm' than what he had witnessed the previous day. In any case, this change in attitude appeared to be some kind of a peace offering. He hoped his captain took it as such.

After a few seconds' pause, Spock felt Jim's hand on his elbow, as he was gently led into the kitchen. Normally, it would be considered a gesture of affection, but at the moment, Spock thought, it felt more as if Jim was taking comfort from his presence. As they sat down at the table, Spock realized he did not mind providing that small bit of reassurance through touch.

"I made your favorite," Commander Kirk addressed her son, a bright smile on her face. "Bacon and eggs with sausages. There are also blueberry muffins in the oven; I know how much you love them. They're almost about done." She went over to the oven and took out the hot tray of muffins, laying them out on the marble top. She turned to Spock and greeted him. "Good Morning, Commander."

"Good morning," he replied, watching her carefully extract six muffins from the moulds and set them on another plate.

She joined them at the table. "Come on; what are you waiting for?" She stared at them, her eyebrows rising in question. "Dig in!"

Spock picked up his fork and looked over at the offerings. He was about to take one of the fruit offerings, when he looked at Jim and paused at the expression on his face.

The captain looked furious, his lips set in a thin line. He watched as Jim swallowed heavily a few times, his nostrils flaring and then turned to his mother. "Mom, Spock doesn't eat meat."

Winona Kirk looked at her son closely. "So I made pancakes for him. There's also fruit and cereal. And hash browns, too." She laughed lightly, though her eyes were intense. "Potato is considered a vegetable, at least in some cultures." She looked at Spock. "You like maple syrup, Commander?"

"I do not have a preference for it, but with the ample offerings at my disposal, it would more than suffice, thank you." He looked into his captain's eyes, nodding slightly, silently urging him not to take offense when there was no need for it. He did not mind others partaking of a meal that contained meat, as long as he had meat-free options. However, he suspected there was more going on here than a simple matter of non-vegetarian food.

He looked at Jim until the human huffed out a breath and picked up a fork.

"See? The commander doesn't mind." Winona Kirk smiled, her tone careful. "Now eat, before everything gets cold."

The next few minutes were spent in silence as they ate quietly. Spock could see Jim listlessly cutting into his eggs, his face dark, as he seemed to not have much of an appetite. It appeared that the dark cloud that had been hovering over his head last night had gotten stormier this morning, even as his mother's demeanor had taken a more positive shift.

After a few minutes, Winona Kirk looked up. "So I hope you two had a good night's sleep."

Spock looked at Jim, and when his friend didn't answer, he nodded at the commander. "It was adequate, thank you. I hope you did as well."

"It was fine," she replied. "Just a little hard to get used to getting your feet on solid ground after months of living on a starship, isn't it?"

He inclined his head, as he took a sip from his tea. "Indeed, it can take some adjusting."

She looked at him closely. "How are you adjusting to the Iowa weather, Commander? It's not too cold for you, I hope."

Spock opened his mouth to respond and-

"Can you stop with the Commander shit already?"

Spock stared at Jim, feeling his eyebrow rise, as he looked at his friend's enraged countenance. Apparently, the storm had touched down.

Commander Kirk looked at her son. "What do you mean?"

"His name is Spock," Jim snapped. "He may be my First Officer but he's also my friend, and we're not on duty right now. So you can quit with the formal hiding-behind-the-rank bullshit and address him with his given name."

"Jim," Spock tried to interrupt, but the captain talked over him,

"Or fine, don't," he continued, a scowl on his face, "but stop with the passive-aggressive bullshit you've employed all your life."

"That _I've_ employed all my life?" Commander Kirk's voice shook as she stared at him. "Or that _you've_ employed all your life?"

"Sure. Of course," Jim grated sarcastically. "Because this is all about me."

"I don't know, Jim," Winona Kirk said neutrally, but her eyes were flashing dangerously. "You tell me what it's about."

"Don't play the blonde card, Mom," Jim huffed. "It doesn't suit you."

"But I bet it suits you perfectly," Winona Kirk's voice had turned cold, the warmth of the carefully prepared food no longer enough to sustain the geniality of the morning—forced as it had been. "It always has. All you ever had to do was flash those pretty blues and all your sins were forgiven, weren't they?"

"Of course," Jim leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his chest, his face thunderous. "That's exactly what you'd think."

Winona Kirk stared at him. "No, Jim, that is _not_ what I think. I know you're a captain now. A decorated war hero. I know all about your accomplishments."

"But you know nothing about me." Jim's tone was accusatory, and suddenly, Spock had the urge to excuse himself and leave the room. This was a private familial matter. He should not be listening to this conversation. No matter how much he wished to intervene on his friend's behalf and somehow make things easier for him, he knew it was not his place.

But neither of the Kirks were giving him a chance to walk away.

"I know you saved Earth." Winona Kirk was looking at her son incredulously. "What with the time travelling Romulans coming back through that wormhole to ruin all our lives." She huffed impatiently. "Hell, ask your First Officer; he knows all about them, doesn't he?"

That made Spock pause as he turned to look at her before shifting his eyes to Jim, whose face turned even darker. "Leave Spock out of this. He has nothing to do with anything."

Spock once again attempted to interrupt, "Jim."

"Of course _he_ has nothing to do with this," Winona continued in the same tone, her impatience apparent. "Only a future version of him."

That stopped all movement on the table, as Spock felt both his eyebrows rise. He heard Jim's sharp intake of breath as he stared at his mother. "You think he's responsible for..." He stopped and stared at her and then said slowly, "How do you know about that? That's classified information."

Winona Kirk looked taken aback for a moment and then she laughed, the sound bitter. "What? You think that's something only Starfleet's Poster Boy for Heroism knows about?" Her tone was sarcastic, jibing. "I'm an affected party, too, remember? You're not the only one who knows things. They briefed us all. I was on the _Kelvin_, sweetheart, when the timeline changed. When everything went to hell."

Her logic about her being an affected party to the _Kelvin_ incident was sound. Her being present at the time of the _Kelvin_ attack, especially since she was George Kirk's widow, would make her one of the few people cleared to get a full briefing on the _Narada_ incident. What puzzled Spock, however, was the insinuation that the commander somehow considered his future counterpart to be responsible for the _Kelvin_'s destruction. What he had read up on her experience last night negated such an implication.

However, Spock did not think that was what Jim was thinking about as he fumed, his teeth grinding together in anger, as the color in his face rose with every heartbeat. "Yeah, who better to know about things going to hell than Winona Kirk, right?"

"Jim." Spock started, even though he knew there was no use; neither of them seemed aware of his presence at this point.

"Have you heard back from Sam, by the way?" Jim growled, as he stared at his mother. "Any clue about how your older son is doing these days? Or are you too busy pursuing your duties and caring about your job to give a damn about your family?"

"Of course I give a damn," Winona Kirk snapped. "Not that _you'd_ know anything about it, considering you haven't been back home in four years!"

"Fuck this shit." Jim suddenly pulled back his chair and stood up. Spock got up from his chair as well. "I can't sit here and listen to this anymore." Jim jabbed his index finger at his mother, snarling. "_This_ is why I haven't been back home; the only fucking reason!" And with that, he turned around, threw open the backdoor and stormed out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

Spock stared at the closed door, then he pushed his chair back and moved to go after his friend.

"Commander."

Spock paused in mid-movement. He knew he must follow Jim, as his friend was clearly in distress.

"Please." The voice was pleading.

He slowly turned to look at Winona Kirk and felt his brows rise at the spectacle. She had her head bowed, holding it in both hands. "I'm sorry," he heard her murmur. "I didn't mean to say all that; to say any of that..." Slowly she raised her head to look at him, and he found himself surprised at the sight of anguish on her face.

He looked at her a beat and then asked, "Why, then, did you say what you did? I do not believe that you blame either myself or my future counterpart for the _Kelvin_'s destruction."

"Of course, I don't." She looked at him strangely. "I'm a Starfleet officer. I know how these things work. I don't know what made me say that." Her eyes were introspective. "It... just slipped out, for no reason at all." She looked confused. "I honestly don't hold you responsible, at all."

He tilted his head and looked at her closely. "Why did you cause upset to your son, who, to quote yourself, has not been back home in four years?"

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Jim and I have... communication issues. We find it hard to speak to each other like normal people." She looked up at him, her eyes remorseful. "He always brings out the worst reactions from me."

Spock felt his brows come together as he pondered her statement. "I find that difficult to believe. Jim is a very sociable person, one who is very amiable towards others. He is equally admired and respected by his crew on board the _Enterprise_." He looked at her. "He has done much to earn that respect."

Something softened in her eyes. "I have no doubt about that, Mr. Spock." She looked at him, a frown appearing on her forehead. "Can I call you by your given name? I didn't mean any disrespect by addressing you by your rank. You're one of the most accomplished young officers in service today. Your rank is an honor to you, I'm sure."

"I did not take offense to your mode of address, Commander."

She smiled tiredly. "Please call me Winona."

He looked at her. "That would be... disrespectful of me."

"Then Mrs. Kirk would do." She sighed. "I wasn't in a very good mood last night when I came home. I'm sorry I was rude."

"You do not need to apologize to me." _It is not I to whom you should be apologizing_.

But it appeared as though she had heard the unspoken words despite that. She nodded at him. "I think you should go and see to Jim now. He might be in need of his... friend."

With a nod, Spock turned around, opened the door and stepped outside.

* * *

Jim didn't know where he was going - he just knew he needed to get out of that suffocating place. So he walked blindly, not seeing the path, not seeing where he was headed, just taking one step after another and feeling his blood burn in his veins, his breath coming out in puffs, as he heard the thundering beat of his heart in his ears.

He couldn't pinpoint, what, exactly had made him finally snap. He'd lain awake most of the night, only falling into a fitful sleep at around six in the morning, so his mood was already shot by the time he came down for breakfast. And then she had to go and talk about Spock being somehow responsible for the _Kelvin_ incident, which was fucking ridiculous. How could anyone blame Spock for that—either Spock?. That was unfathomable. And then all her bullshit about him 'flashing his baby blues' and getting away with things, as if everything had been handed to him on a fucking platter. That was what Frank used to say. And that crap about him not coming back home - as if she'd ever wanted him back.

As if she'd ever made him feel welcome in his own house.

_You live in my house, buddy... _

The words echoed in his head as if they'd been spoken yesterday - and he suddenly skidded to a stop when he realized where he was. He blinked, his heart beating fast in his chest.

He was at the old garage. He breathed hard as he stared at the rusted padlock that was on the door. So many memories, so much fucking _painful_ shit he didn't want to be thinking about.

It had never been Frank's house. It had always been Jim's, even though Jim hadn't known that at the time.

_And this is my car... you get one scratch on it, I'll whip your ass so hard..._

He scrunched his eyes shut as he remembered the words. _You're worthless. You'll never amount to anything. _He felt his hands curling into a fist. _You're the reason why your mom doesn't stay here. She can't stand you. Just like your stupid brother couldn't stand you. _That's _why he ran away_. He felt his fingernails digging into his flesh as he felt a snarl form at the back of his throat. _You drive everyone away. You're pathetic; such a fucking loser. No one can fucking_ stand _you_.

With an anguished cry, his eyes snapped open and he slammed his fist into the garage door.

_You will never amount to anything. Never. _

He hit the unyielding wood again. And again.

_You'll always be alone. You'll always be a nobody. _

Teeth digging into his lips, he kicked at the door, and punched at the padlock, over and over and over, remembering the words, not wanting to remember the words, unable to keep them out of his head.

"Jim."

He didn't feel the stinging pain that accompanied each blow, didn't see his hand turning red, because his whole world was pain, was full of red, full of angry whispers and hateful shouts. He saw nothing, _heard_ nothing but for the blaring chaos in his head. Nothing but the memories of whimpers and cries and angry yells and slaps and punches to his face and to his stomach, and the searing pain that followed as he was thrown to the ground and beaten and kicked in a bout of uncontrollable fury.

_"Jim." _

Suddenly his hand was seized in a strong grip, and he turned with a snarl to push away whoever had dared to touch him when he realized... _Spock_.

The contact was only for a few seconds as he stared at the shock in his First Officer's brown eyes, and then, with an audible gasp, Spock dropped his hand.

Jim saw the full look on Spock's face and froze.

* * *

That brief touch was like an electric switch being turned on, sending a bolt of sizzling current into Spock's system that went right from the nerve endings on his fingertips to the neurons firing along his spinal cord, to the sensory receptors in his cerebral cortex, lighting up his synapses.

It lasted a mere 4.3 seconds, but, in that brief moment, Spock saw the memory Jim had been trying to forget.

Pain, fear, and anguish wrestled with razor-sharp slashes of anger, misery and betrayal - and the connection amped up, the blazing heat of the current throwing every image, every sound, every single _emotion_ into crisp, sharp relief. The looming presence of a tall, adult human male, sweeping down into his vision, his mottled, red face full of anger, hatred and disgust, his mouth opened into a menacing snarl. And the sound coming out of his mouth reminiscent of the slow mechanical whir of an engine rising up into the burst of hot, burning fuel firing into the combustion chamber to the roaring scream of metal skidding, and thrashing, and bursting into flames.

_This is my dad's house, not yours_, he cries. _And it is my dad's car, I'd rather burn it down than let you sell it. _

And the human male gripping his arms and dragging him across the backyard, dragging him through the dirt, dragging him between the trees, as he struggled and kicked and lashed out at him to get away, but he was strong, too strong, and he could do nothing as he was dragged into the garage and thrown against the wall.

When the fist connected with his face, the shock of it sent him reeling to the floor. This was not supposed to happen. That man never had the guts to raise a hand to him before; his mother had never allowed it. But his mother wasn't there; she was off-planet. And that man, Frank, had warned him before - warned him he was going to kick his ass. But this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

When the fists came, unrelenting and vicious, he curled into himself as he sobbed into the concrete floor of the garage, watching his own blood drip to the gray surface. He thought this might have been a bad dream. But the fingers that jabbed into his sides and pinched at his bruised flesh and the fist that grabbed the neck of his shirt and lifted him off the floor—it was all very much real. And the words were real - the harsh, loud, shouted sounds, stringing expletives and harsh denunciations together, so that they rang into his ears like an unending peal of chaos. And the slaps that stung the skin of his cheeks, first left, then right, over and over, they were real, too. And the blood that colored his vision was real; the hot, burning, human blood, spilled in innocence, in human weakness, in illogical anger.

It was the blood that jolted Spock out of his trance, the red human blood as he had never seen it before, as he dropped Jim's hand with a sharp intake of breath, feeling the jolt of the connection zinging in his nerves, his breath coming out in gasps, his eyes wide with shock.

Jim looked at him in equal disbelief, his blue eyes sharp with the echoes of the pain and betrayal lurking in them.

"What did you see?" he asked Spock, his face pale, his lips clenched together.

And Spock felt remorse like he had not felt in a long time. Remorse that his friend, his captain, this human for whom he felt great affection and protectiveness, had known such pain in his life. Remorse that he had, unknowingly, looked into a memory that was private and painful and not something his friend had wanted to share. Remorse that he had not been there to stop the event in the past from occurring.

"Jim," he began haltingly, his voice shaking, "I... apologize; I did not mean to intrude." He attempted to regulate his breathing to come back to its regular parameters, as he looked into his captain's wary eyes. "I did not know ... I am sorry, Jim."

He did not know what Jim saw on his face, but suddenly, the human closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wetting his dry lips with his tongue, before opening his eyes again and staring at Spock. "Stop apologizing, Spock." Jim shook his head, a frown on his face. "It's not your fault. It's not..."

Spock had the irrational urge to touch his friend's face, to seek out the meld points, so that he could ensure Jim's emotional control was adequate. But he knew a tactile contact would be most unwelcome at this moment. Besides, he had never initiated contact of this nature with Jim before. This had been an accident - an unintentional touch that had shown him a window through which he had glimpsed a phantom of a memory that was dark, and ugly, and hurtful.

Spock felt his brows come together as he looked at his friend. "Jim." He swallowed hard, still feeling the sting of disbelief, that a child could be hurt in this manner. "You were... _hurt_, in this place."

Jim shook his head hard, his face impassive, even if his eyes showed everything he was feeling. "I don't want to talk about it."

Spock looked at his captain. "I am sorry."

_Sorry you were hurt. Sorry I cannot do anything to assuage your pain. Sorry I intruded on your private feelings. _

"I told you." Jim looked at him. "It's not your fault."

That was when Spock noticed the state of Jim's right hand. His knuckles were bruised, the skin of his fingers split into angry gashes, and blood was seeping out of the wound. "Your hand is bleeding." He reached out and took Jim's wrist in his hand, making sure he touched only the cloth.

Jim looked down at his hand, looking surprised. "It's just a flesh wound; it'll heal."

"It needs medical attention," Spock said. "The wound will become infected if left untreated."

Jim shook his head, his voice tight. "It won't get infected."

"The cut is deep, Jim," Spock urged.

"It'll bleed out." Jim looked up at Spock's face, a strange, glassy look in his eyes, as if he was not thinking of this wound, but instead remembering an entirely different injury. "Take out the venom."

"Jim."

"I wish I could get rid of all this venom, Spock." Jim was still not looking at Spock's face, but he had not pulled his hand out of Spock's grip, and Spock had not let it go. "I hate wallowing in it. It feels suffocating."

Spock stared at his friend's face, feeling a strange constriction in his chest at his misery. "I am sorry, Jim."

Jim looked into his eyes at this. "Stop _apologizing_. I should be apologizing to you." His face twisted in frustration. "For my mother."

Spock looked at him a moment and then replied, "There is no need. Your mother has already apologized to me."

Jim blinked at him in surprise. "What?"

For some reason, Spock was glad to be talking about this. At least this was a problem in the present, and could therefore be dealt with. It was the demons of the past, about which he knew so little, about that he did not know how to slay. "She does not harbor any ill will towards me or my future counterpart, Jim," he said quietly. "It was, as they say, a slip of the tongue. She did not mean to offend me."

"Huh." Jim looked amazed. "She apologized to you. Well, that's a first." He looked down at the ground, his eyes searching for something he could not find, and then raised his head and stared into Spock's eyes. "I didn't want you to... see me like this."

For a moment, Spock felt puzzled at the words. What did Jim mean?

And then it was as if the pieces fell right into place. He looked closely at the captain's face. "Jim, you are my friend. You are a courageous, strong, and kind man, and I do not believe there is anything in this universe about which you need to feel ashamed." He watched the breadth of emotions on his friend's face and continued, "It is my honor to stand by your side, to share your burden. You do not have to... hide from me."

Jim watched him in what appeared to be amazement, and then suddenly threw his arms around Spock and pulled him into an embrace. Spock felt himself freeze for a moment, as he felt the full length of Jim's body press against his frame, as his heart started beating hard at his side. He heard Jim murmur softly, "Thank you, Spock," his voice rich with gratitude, and, just like that, all the tension bled out of his body as Spock allowed himself to relax incrementally, winding his own arms loosely around his friend. He gently rubbed his palms over Jim's back, feeling the hard muscles and sinewy strength of the human's body under multiple layers of clothing, and hoped the simple touch could ease some of the human's discomfort.

"If you ever wish to... talk, you know I am always here," he said softly.

"I know," Jim's voice sounded huskier than usual and Spock felt himself shiver in the embrace.

And Jim felt it. He pulled back abruptly, his eyes widening with shock. "Christ, Spock. Look at you; you're not ever wearing a coat."

Spock looked down at his attire and realized Jim was correct. In his haste to follow Jim, he had neglected to put on his outer protective layers. Then he looked at Jim and saw that he was no better attired. "Neither are you."

Jim huffed, "Well, I'm better used to this weather than you are."

"I assure you I am quite all right," Spock insisted, and, as if on cue, promptly sneezed. He looked at Jim in dismay, not quite sure what had happened.

"Jesus," Jim exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Not if you get pneumonia, you won't be." He threw one arm around Spock's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get you inside."

Spock allowed himself to be led.

* * *

As they made their way back to the house, neither of them noticed the figure that had watched most of their interaction from the kitchen window move away, so as not to be spotted.

* * *

That afternoon, after Spock had been duly treated with a dose of decongestant and an antihistamine from the same medkit he used for the sterile swabs and regenerator to clean and treat the captain's wound, Jim told Spock he was going out for a while.

Spock could see that, despite their conversation, Jim was still upset about the events of that morning. He may not have shown it since they'd come back inside, but the unease was present in the cool interactions with his mother, who had suspiciously been silent while Jim was settling Spock in front of the fireplace downstairs with a thermos of hot tea by his side and all the spare blankets he could find. Then, during lunch, which consisted of a salad for Spock and sandwiches for Jim, Winona Kirk had suddenly made herself scarce, citing an excuse to catch up on some official work as she disappeared upstairs.

His concern for his friend's emotional wellbeing must have showed on his face, because Jim only smiled at him. "It's okay, Spock. I just want to go for a walk. It'll clear my head."

Spock started to get up. "Then I will accompany you."

"No, you won't." Jim pushed him back into his nest of blankets and cushions. "You need to watch this cold. I don't want you getting sick on my watch."

"I am all right," Spock assured him.

"I know you are." Jim looked at him imploringly. "Just... stay, okay? I'll be back soon." He looked at the stairs, a faraway look in his eyes, as he took a deep breath, before turning to Spock. "Besides, something tells me that it's my presence setting her off. She's not likely to revert to her obnoxiousness with just you there."

Spock looked at him levelly. "You must remember that the weather forecast is for a severe snowstorm to hit this evening. Please keep your comm unit on your person at all times."

Jim chuckled. "Don't worry, Spock; I intend to come back much sooner than that. And I won't get lost. I know this place like the back of my hand."

Spock watched as the captain straightened up, adjusting his thick layer of clothing, and moved out of the door.

* * *

Winona waited until Jim had left before coming downstairs.

She knew she'd screwed up this morning. She'd thought that starting the day on a positive note would ease the way forward. But, as it turned out, things were not going to be that simple.

She could see Jim had been pissed off the moment he came downstairs. He'd probably been pissed off the whole night. From there, it was apparent the morning was inclined to go badly. It didn't help that from that point onwards, apparently everything that came out of her mouth was either the wrong thing, or was taken that way.

She knew that she'd made remarks that, in retrospect, looked like a censure against someone Jim considered to be a good friend. She hadn't really meant anything by what she'd said about Spock and his future counterpart; just another case of her mouth running off without consulting with her brain first. Add to that Jim's remarks about Sam, which had hurt deeply - yet another failing of herself as a mother - and then her defensive reaction of putting the blame instantly on Jim when she knew she was in the wrong... Well.

Ironically, in the whole convoluted equation, Spock had appeared to be the cohesive factor. She'd seen the way Jim had jumped to his defense at the mere implication that he was being wrongly accused. Then Spock's immediate inclination to go after Jim, to make sure he was all right. Followed by that impromptu hug at the old garage that she'd witnessed, and then the whole domestic scene in front of the fireplace, where she didn't know which one of them won the contest of who could take care of the other better. It was apparent that these two were close friends.

She'd given them some time by themselves during lunch while she got her thoughts together, deciding on how she was going to go about trying to mend this situation. It was a lifelong accumulation of grievances and missteps; of wrong choices made at the worst possible times. She knew it was a chasm that not going to be easily bridged.

As she came down the stairs, she found Spock in the living room, quietly folding the blankets and putting all the cushions to their proper places. He turned to watch her as she came into the room, his face carefully blank and his dark eyes assessing her movement into the kitchen.

"How're you feeling?" she asked him, pouring herself a glass of water and grabbing a cracker out of the box on the shelf.

"I am well," he replied, tone strangely flat.

She took a bite and drank deeply from the glass, her throat suddenly feeling parched, and watched him watching her, his face not giving much away. She felt like she was on a petri dish under a microscope - a biological specimen in one of his experiments he was trying to unravel.

She put the glass down and sighed. "Whatever you want to say, Mr. Spock, feel free to speak your mind."

Spock observed her another moment, then inclined his head. "Very well," he said. He put his hands behind his back, straightened his posture further and looked at her directly. Then, "Were you aware of the fact that, when he was a child, Jim was physically abused at the hands of your second husband?"

She froze as the words registered in her brain. This was... _not_ what she had been expecting. She looked into his eyes, trying to find any hint of accusation, of condemnation, her heart hammering in her chest - but saw nothing other than an intense sense of curiosity. But... she hadn't been anticipating this. Not this. Never this.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes." She looked into his eyes. "Did he... tell you that?"

Something flickered in his eyes. "Not... directly."

She looked at him, her chest suddenly feeling tight. "I've made some terrible mistakes in my life, Mr. Spock. My second husband, Frank Harrison, was one of those."

"He hurt your child." Spock's eyes glinted dark. "No one should be allowed to cause physical or emotional harm to one so young."

"You're right," she said, her tone brittle, as she felt that anger return - the anger she'd felt all those years back. Being betrayed by someone she'd trusted. She pressed her lips together. "That's why he went to jail for what he did."

Spock blinked, and she realized he hadn't known that.

"Jim didn't tell you this?"

Again that flicker, as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. "We did not talk in detail. As I have stated, he did not... tell me anything directly." He looked at her. "I found out... purely by accident."

Whatever that meant, she had no clue. She looked at him warily. "I'm not sure how much I should say."

"I do not wish to intrude on a private matter." He looked directly at her. "That was never my intention. I am... merely curious how you allowed this to occur in the first place."

"I didn't _allow_ anything to occur," she bristled. "I was off-planet when it happened."

"As Jim's mother, you were his primary caretaker." He looked at her implacably. "And while your other responsibilities were important, I do not believe Jim, as a child, would have seen things in quite the same way."

And all at once, the fight went out of her. Because that was the truth, and she knew there were no two ways about it. "You're right." She sighed. "He still doesn't see it that way." Suddenly she felt tired, so tired. "I tried to do right by him after that, but nothing was ever the same. That one miscalculation ruined everything in our lives."

She saw those arched brows come together, processing her reaction. No matter how many times she came across Vulcans, they never failed to amaze her, and this one was an enigma in himself. A hybrid with the strengths and potencies of both parents. Human and Vulcan alike. Both like her, and alien to her, at the same time. He had already seen too much in his life; had experienced loss, heartache, grief – as much as he would let himself feel.

"It's hard to live under the shadow of a legend, you know." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He looked at her closely. "You are referring to George Kirk's legacy."

Winona shrugged. "Who can ever compare, hmm? Jim never really forgave me for... abandoning him for the sake of my career; for my causes."

"You causes were... valid." He tilted his head as he observed her. "Have you ever attempted to sit down and talk with him?"

She exhaled. "You've seen how well we manage that. "

"Communication takes effort, Mrs. Kirk."

"Sometimes that effort can be too hard to bring together."

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes watching her inquisitively, a furrow between his brows. Then he asked, "Mrs. Kirk, do you regret the chance your deceased husband gave you?"

She blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her. "When he made the decision to sacrifice his life for the lives of 800 individuals on the _Kelvin_; for the life of his wife and newborn son. Do you regret that?"

She frowned. "Of course not."

He gazed at her closely. "He gave you a gift; a second chance at life," he said quietly. "You have taken that chance and made a positive contribution to your service and to your career, and to your family as well, whether your children realize it or not. Your eldest son has settled down after a period of rebellious behavior as an accomplished scientist on Denobula." He paused. "And your youngest son has already surpassed his father's legacy."

Winona felt her eyes watering and blinked hard. "Yes, they've done well," she said, her voice strangely hoarse. "Both of them."

"Indeed." Spock nodded. "It took me sometime to get past Jim's... brash exterior, but I have grown to know him as one of the most courageous, dedicated, and creatively genius commanding officers I have ever had the honor to work with." Winona closed her eyes. There was something in Spock's mellifluous tone that reminded her of a melody; the cadence of his speech was almost hypnotizing. "He is strong, brilliant, and the most capable captain with whom I have served. Each day working alongside him is a revelation to me." He looked at her, his eyes bright with something she'd never seen in a Vulcan. "You should be proud of him."

For a moment, Winona felt as if she would not be able to say anything in response to that speech. The depth of emotions the words had conveyed showed how much Spock actually felt. For a Vulcan, this young man was quite expressive as far as his emotions were concerned. "I know that," she finally answered. "I _am_ proud... proud of all that he's achieved. I always knew he would."

She watched as the young Vulcan frowned. "Then how is it possible that Jim does not know of this?"

Or perhaps, it was Jim... that made this man feel all those emotions. It was as if the pieces were suddenly falling into place. It was only a hunch, a kind of disjointed portion of a jigsaw puzzle, and some of the pieces were probably still missing, but she felt as if she could somehow make out a ghost of a picture here.

It was a long shot, probably not a very good idea at all, but she felt as if she had to pull the trigger and see where it went. She took a deep breath and looked at him closely, and asked:

"Mr. Spock, does my son know how you feel about _him_?"

She saw the deer caught in the headlights look in his eyes, and knew the shot had landed right on the bull's-eye.

* * *

Jim could see the lights of the Utility Depot flashing from a long distance away, and wrapped his scarf around him tightly, shoving his gloved hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walked. His shoes crunched over snow-covered ground, the chill of the air surrounding him.

As he'd expected, the walk had cleared his head a little. He was still in need of a good night's sleep, but he was feeling a lot more rational now than when he'd woken up. He suspected that while, his mom's demeanor yesterday certainly hadn't helped things, he might have overreacted a little this morning. Being alone for a while, walking through the snow-covered terrain, letting the cold air soothe his aching head - he was at least feeling lucid enough to think through things.

In the past, every time he'd faced an emotional hurdle, his inclination had been to run, especially when it came to shit at home. He'd been running all his life from problems with the family, from Winona, from the crap that was the whole... experience with Frank.

As a teenager, he'd been full of self-righteous anger. Fate had dealt him a harsh hand. His father was dead, his mother was always away, his brother hadn't cared enough to stay, his stepdad was an asshole, his school sucked, his classmates were jealous of his genius, and his friends were all losers. Life sucked. That was all he knew.

Joining Starfleet had been a chance he hadn't realized he'd ever wanted to take. Starfleet had always been the ogre that had taken his father and his mother away from him. As much as he was fascinated by the stories and legends of the heroes he'd grown up hearing about, Starfleet had been the bad guys, the ones who ruled by an iron fist and made little kids grow up without their parents.

So he'd run from that ogre. Telling himself he was better than them. He didn't need Starfleet; he didn't need to live with the ghost of the _Kelvin_ hero. He could make a life of his own, on his own terms, without the help of anybody.

But he'd wasted his potential for too long, getting into fights and generally being a menace and a nuisance, in spite of his genius-level aptitude scores. So when Pike had made the offer, he'd realized that there were better ways of beating the ghost. Instead of running, he could best _them_ - he could best _all_ of them.

He'd thought that joining Starfleet would bring about a change in him. He was responsible now, more mature. He'd seen loss and destruction. He'd saved a planet. He'd made a fucking _contribution_.

But it turned out he was still running. That was always his gut reaction, to fold, to bail, to hide. The ghost was still out there somewhere, mocking him, laughing his ass off at his cowardice. He was still hiding from the shit that never ended, that was always there under the surface, waiting to get out every time he came back.

When he'd left the house an hour ago, his intention had been to walk to the Utility Depot and find out if he could get a couple of hotel rooms somewhere in the city. He'd wanted to run, as always - planning to drag Spock deeper into the mess. As if the poor guy hadn't seen enough already.

Well, not anymore.

He stopped and stared at the Depot building's blinking light, the sign now visible from this distance. He took a deep breath and turned around.

It was time to face the problems head on. He was through running.

* * *

Spock carefully schooled his expression into a look of absolute impassivity and looked at Winona Kirk. "I do not know to what you refer."

A smile played on the corners of her lips, the look in her eyes knowing but soft at the same time. He felt his brows come together. "Did I unintentionally state a humorous anecdote that I am unaware of?"

She looked at him. "You speak with the wisdom of someone much more advanced in years, Mr. Spock," she said. "But the truth is... in many ways you're just a kid."

He raised an eyebrow at her words, his arms tightening behind his back, as he stood even taller, staring at her coolly. "I assure you I am very much an adult in standard years."

The commander mimicked his raised eyebrow and replied, "Are you, now?"

He kept his tone impartial, knowing he must not bristle. "Indeed."

"Then how about Vulcan years?" she asked him. "Are you an adult Vulcan?"

He paused; it was a fair question. He was an adult in the sense that he was old enough to leave home and pursue his studies on another planet, and a career in space. He had even pursued, and eventually ended, his first romantic affiliation with a human. But he had not yet had his first _Pon Farr_. So, in the traditional sense, he was not yet a fully adult Vulcan - not that it was any business of Mrs. Kirk.

He was still contemplating how to answer the query, when Winona Kirk smiled and continued, "You aren't, are you? Like I said, just a kid, scared of being rejected. Even when the evidence suggests that there's no way you would ever be rejected by the one from whom you fear it the most."

Spock stomped the urge to take umbrage at her words, for they hit too close to home. But he was not ready to admit that as yet. "You are making multiple assumptions."

"Let's just say, I have eyes," the commander said. "I've lived a life. You can even say I've loved and lost, and loved again and lost again, over and over. I'm experienced in these things." She looked at him with a sympathetic look in her eyes. "I see how you look at him." She paused a moment, and then added, "Have you ever seen the way he looks at _you_?"

Spock pursed his lips. "I do not see how that is relevant to this most illogical topic of discussion."

"I see how this is going to be." Winona Kirk sighed and shook her head. "Are you telling me you don't care for my son?"

"Not at all." Spock looked at her calmly. "I care for him a great deal. He is my closest friend."

"Do you wish there was more between the two of you?" she pressed.

Spock resisted the urge to sigh. "Wishing something to be a certain way does not make it so."

"Of course not." She held his gaze. "Not if you stay quiet. But it can make all the difference if you decide to take that first crucial step."

He frowned, realizing now that he had not denied what she was implying. "I am not sure that would be... the wisest course of action."

"Who said love was ever wise?" Winona Kirk watched him closely. "Don't try to find logic in this, Mr. Spock - you _will_ fail. Love is utterly illogical." She paused, looking into his eyes, and said, "As is... the courage needed to admit to its existence."

He felt a niggle of aggravation at the back of his head. "You think I lack courage."

"Not at all," she said, her voice soothing. "You've obviously broken through his layers. You've befriended him. I can see he is utterly... _besotted_ with you."

What was she talking about? Spock stared at her, feeling an echo of muted disbelief filling his senses. "Jim is a highly sociable individual," he said slowly. "He has many friends." Some of whom had been friends with him much longer.

"Yes," she agreed, nodding, "but he doesn't show his heart to many people. The fact that he has allowed you to see that... side of him, has allowed you to comfort him – that's a gift too, Spock. Don't let it get away."

_Comfort him?_ Spock stared at Winona Kirk and wondered what exactly she had witnessed this morning. She knew he had gone after her son to make sure he was all right. But that was what friends did - at least, that was how humans showed their affection. It was true that what he felt for Jim ran deeper now than it had done a year ago. But... how had she come to these conclusions? Was he really so transparent? If he was, then had others noticed the same signs she had caught? Had Jim?

But it did not matter. Jim only thought of him as a friend. Didn't he?

He looked at her and simply stated, "He means a great deal to me."

Her eyes were soft, patient. "I can see that. But he's also a Kirk. I know how they are, Mr. Spock. Not the most perceptive creatures around." She looked at him pointedly. "You should tell him."

He felt a curious flutter at his side. "I do not wish to encumber him with feelings with which he may not be comfortable."

She stared at him a moment, her gaze sharp. "You think you'll lose his friendship?"

He frowned. "That would be... illogical."

"Yes, and it'll never happen," she stated.

The simple conviction of her words puzzled him. There were no absolutes in the universe. "How can you be certain?"

She smiled. "Call it... instinct. A woman's intuition."

He tilted his head and stared at her. "It is hard to wrap my mind around the illogic of that statement, Mrs. Kirk."

She grinned. "Is it?"

* * *

Jim came back in the early evening, which prompted the three of them to have an early dinner. Spock informed Jim that he was going to try bypassing the cabling connected to the comm system and attempt to link it to the portable transceiver he had found in storage downstairs and which seemed to be in a working condition. He believed the fault was not in the main transceiver, but the wiring, and sounded hopeful that if the faulty wiring could be bypassed, the link could be activated again.

Jim was in the study downstairs, going through his father's old books lining the walls, when Winona came in. They'd barely interacted during dinner, and Jim was still feeling a little put off, though he remembered why he'd decided to come back. He needed to face these issues head on.

Apparently, his mom had the same idea. She quietly closed the door and took a seat next to him. He looked at her sideways, an old edition of _The Sound and the Fury_ open on his lap, and went back to the book.

"You can stop stewing," she started. "Whatever evil plan you thought I came here harboring exists only in your imagination."

He snorted, turning a page with a lot more vehemence than the age of the book called for. "Yeah. A lot of things only exist in my imagination, right, Mom?

She breathed out heavily. "See that? This is what I was telling Spock about earlier. I can never say anything that doesn't set you off. It's as if we're hard-wired to always cause a short-circuit every time our connection is turned on."

"Yes." He said sardonically. "You're right. We're just predisposed to behave this way. Perhaps it's my presence here that's unwarranted. It's my fault for showing up here without letting you know first. I should have gone to Bali or something."

"Jim, what the hell-" Winona started

"And you, of course, are absolutely innocent, Mom." Jim cut her off. "None of this sticks on you. Nope; nothing at all."

"That's not what I-" she began again.

He interrupted her again, "And you know what? I wanted to get out of your hair. But I came home because I _wanted_ to come home, Mom and I'm sorry it's an inconvenience to you, but for once in my life, I'd like to actually stick around and not feel like I'm not welcome in my own home and-"

"James Tiberius Kirk," she snapped. "Will you stop blathering and let your mother _finish_?"

He stared at her, his eyes glinting with unsuppressed emotion.

"You're not going anywhere," Winona told him flatly. "I am not pissed that you're here, Jim." She scowled and then shook her head, breathing out impatiently. "I'm... ecstatic."

She huffed when he rolled his eyes. "Yes - this is how I show my delight at my son coming home after four long years. I snap at him; I can't help it. But I'd like to, Jim. I'd like to... be different; to do... better." She looked into his eyes, her eyes shining as he watched her throat working.

"And no, I'm not innocent. I've done many stupid things in my life and while we're talking time travel, I wish I could go back in time and change some things of my own, to get a chance to make different choices." She inhaled sharply and looked at him closely, the wetness in her eyes expanding, and he started to get that sinking feeling. "But I can't, Jim, no matter how much I want to."

She paused, her voice suddenly small. "And none of it is your fault. If I could... if I could..." That sinking feeling became a sinkhole as her speech halted, her voice shook. "...If I could... ever get past the obvious... if I..." She gasped and then blurted out, "Jim, I'm sorry I've been such a horrible mother."

"Mom," he sighed, watching tears slip out the corners of her eyes.

She pleaded, "I never wanted you to get hurt. No mother ever-"

He reached out to put his hand on her arm. "Mom, please-"

"-wants their kids to get hurt. For them to _hate_ her."

"Mom." He turned and gripped her shoulders in his hands and looked straight into her eyes. "I don't hate you." God, he couldn't stand this. Why did he always feel like shit when she went like this? He hated seeing her cry, hearing her apologize. He just couldn't bear it. "Don't apologize to me, okay?" he begged. "Please, just stop. It's okay."

She shook her head, wiping the tears off her face. "No, baby, no, it isn't. It's not OK."

"It is okay," he insisted. "Everything's okay."

She stared at him. "But it wasn't okay, back then. There were a lot of bad... decisions."

"Yes." He sighed. "But there were also... good ones. Why can't we focus on that?"

She looked at him for a long moment and then shook her head. "You... are a marshmallow, you know."

"What?" He looked at her blankly.

She smiled softly. "You're a big softie; just like your dad. He could never stand to see anyone cry either, even for a second."

"Mom."

"Look at you." She watched him, her eyes tired but amazed. "I've been at my worst behavior for years. I haven't reached out to you more than a couple of times since you got the _Enterprise_. And all I have to do is sniffle for two seconds, and you tell me I don't need to apologize."

"You don't," he insisted. "You shouldn't have to. You're... you're my mother."

She didn't seem convinced, but she didn't say anything. After a moment, she turned to him again, her brow furrowed. "Oh, Jim. I didn't mean any of what I said this morning -about your command, about Spock. And the older one. About the _Kelvin_. I know it's not this kid's fault."

Spock had told him she had apologized to him. He looked at her. "No, its not. It's not the fault of the older one either, let me assure you. He's awesome too."

"Mmmhmm." She nodded, the expression on her face strange. "Not as awesome as this one, I'm sure. He's a catch."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Trust me, that one is definitely very awesome." Still, he couldn't help but concede. "But you're right about my Spock. He's definitely a catch." He allowed a small smile to break at the corners of his lips. "I'm so fortunate to have him on the ship. I can't imagine what I'd do without him as my XO. He makes everything look so easy."

"I am glad... that you have such a good friend on the ship." There was still something in her eyes he couldn't recognize.

He nodded. "Me, too."

She paused a moment and then asked, "How's Leonard McCoy?"

Jim grinned. "He's doing great. He's spending time with his daughter this Christmas."

"Wonderful. His ex still a bitch?"

"As always."

She made a face. "Terrible."

"Yeah."

Another pause during which she looked down at her hands in her lap. Then she looked up. "Jim?"

"Yes, Mom?"

She watched his eyes. "Can we please..." She took a deep breath. "Could we make a fresh start?"

He sighed. It still wasn't that simple. "Mom."

It was as if she'd read his mind. "I don't mean I want to push all the bad stuff under the rug. I just... want to make a fresh start in our attempt to _tackle_ all that stuff. I miss you."

"I miss you too, Mom," he told her sincerely. "But we always get on each other's nerves. I've never been a particularly... 'good boy'. Not like Sam."

She sniffed. "Sam is in a league of his own. But even he couldn't take it." She looked away from Jim's face, watching the shelves filled with the books dad had collected all over the years. "Even he had to leave."

He had no idea who she was actually talking about here. A strange bitterness filled the back of his throat. "Story of my life," he muttered. "Can't get anyone to stick around."

She turned back to him, her brows drawn together. He didn't know what she saw on his face, but her eyes widened.

"Jim, no, That's not true. It wasn't you I was running from, no matter how much it may have seemed that way to you. It was... this house..." She looked around helplessly, as if remembering something she had been trying to forget for years, for all her life. "This... existence, this presence that never completely left these walls."

"You mean Dad," he huffed. "But I'm inextricably tangled in those memories too, aren't I? I mean, you got me at the same moment you lost him. So my existence from that day one has always been entangled with the ghost of my dead father. The ghost you spent the rest of your life running away from."

"But not from _you_, Jim." That pleading tone was back and he was suddenly sick of it. "Never from you."

"Well, how would I know that, Mom?" he retorted. "What would a ten-year-old kid know? And then you left _Frank Harrison_ in charge." He snorted. "You showed remarkable character recognition in choosing him to be your kids' guardian, Mom."

She tore her eyes away from him. "Frank was a mistake."

"And your kids paid the price for your mistake." He looked at her sadly, angrily. "Sam ran away. Your mistake put me in the _hospital_, while you were off in space, assigned to some ship while you had family on Earth."

"And I came back just as soon as I heard," she insisted. "I divorced him, kicked him out of our lives. He spent time in a detention facility for three years."

"And then you left again," Jim snapped. "You threw me in the boarding school and went back to your work." His voice rose as his anger mounted. "You weren't even supposed to be on active duty, were you? You couldn't have been. You had family here."

"I didn't _throw you_ anywhere," she countered. "I had commitments."

"To the rest of the quadrant," he said bitterly as he got up from his seat. "To Starfleet." He looked down at her. "But not to your _kids_."

He turned and moved to the door.

"Jim," she called after him.

He turned the door handle, opened the door.

"Stop," she cried. "Please!"

He paused in the doorway.

"I know I messed up," she insisted. "Big time. But tell me one thing." He looked at her. "Was your life so awful after I left... because of everything I did, or _didn't_ do after Frank was gone?" Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Was it so bad, so _horrible_ that... you can't even bear to look me in the eye? Can't bear to sit and talk to me for two seconds like a civilized person?"

She looked into his eyes. "Or are you going to punish me for those mistakes for the rest of our lives?"

He watched her for a moment, his thoughts in a jumble in his head. He didn't have an answer.

Then he stepped out of the room and let the door close behind him.

* * *

That night, the forecast storm finally hit Riverside.

First came the lightening storm accompanied by howling winds, banging against the windows and doors, making the whole house reverberate against the elements like a toy ship shaking in a tumultuous sea. Then came the freezing, torrential sleet, with chunks of ice eventually falling on the ground and making every surface dangerously slippery and wet. The temperature dropped to -22 degrees.

And when that was through, the blizzard came, snow falling heavily all through the night, covering everything in white sheets.

In the middle of the night, the storm knocked down one of the transmitters that provided power to the farmlands in Hickory.

The Kirk house was plunged into darkness.

* * *

**Continued in Riverside Part 3 of 4**


	3. Chapter 3

**Riverside, Part 3 of 4**

The next morning, with the power down, they all had to get up early and get busy with finding conventional ways of heating the house.

There was an emergency backup that took care of the lights and other amenities, though the temperature controls were not operable on that. So their option was either conventional heating or freezing to death, and Spock did not think anyone in this household was particularly suicidal. The storm had abated an hour before dawn, but the flurries were still flying, and the driveway was covered in snow several feet high. Jim said that was a task they would have to tackle later, when it finally stopped snowing entirely.

Heating the house did not turn out to be as difficult a chore as Spock had suspected. Walter had left an ample supply of wood logs for the fireplaces in the storeroom, so Spock assisted the captain in getting the logs out, chopping them into smaller pieces and distributing them across the main fireplaces that needed to be lit constantly, in the three occupied bedrooms upstairs, the main living room downstairs, and the smaller fireplace in the kitchen.

It was after the whole house was comfortably warm and they'd had breakfast, and Spock had returned to his room to check the viability of rechargeable power supply attached to his portable device, that the knock came on his door. He got up to open the door and saw that his visitor was Jim.

"I'm sorry, Spock," he started, his face contrite. "For getting you stuck here in this house. In this weather."

Spock looked at his friend. "I do not mind, Jim. It has been an... interesting vacation."

"Seriously?" Jim looked surprised. "With this weather? And the way... things have been here?"

Spock knew what Jim was talking about. But the truth was, Spock would rather be here, in the midst of Jim's problems, even if he could do nothing to mediate, to sort out the issues, than anywhere else. "I assure you," he told him. "I am most comfortable."

"Yeah?" Jim looked at him dubiously, and then smiled. "I always did like this room. The fireplace has the room nice and toasty, right?"

"Indeed."

Jim took the seat next to him, and looked at where he was tinkering with the portable device. "What are you doing?"

Spock looked down at the screen. His attempt to bypass the defective wiring in the comm. system had worked last night, but with the power down now, his efforts were moot. "Some... reading." He realized he had the history page open, of the data he had downloaded earlier. "I downloaded some data I was intrigued by in the second night we were here." He looked at the screen, then back up at his captain. "I hope you do not mind."

Jim frowned as he leaned in to look at the open page. "Why would I mind-" He noticed the content and stopped. "Oh."

The saved page showed the files he had downloaded from the Federation Diplomatic Corps. _War Crimes Aftermath Program_.

Spock looked at the open page for a long moment. Then he looked at his friend and began: "When I was 5.2 standard years old, my mother joined this program as part of the Federation's efforts to counter the difficulties experienced after the _Kelvin_ incident."

Jim had his eyes on the screen. "I've heard about the program. What was her focus group?"

"Xenophobia," Spock replied. "After the destruction of the _Kelvin_ at the hands of a Romulan vessel, there was an increase in incidents that could directly be linked to rising xenophobia against all Vulcanoid races. As my mother was human but married to a Vulcan, it was a cause close to her heart. She felt great satisfaction is taking whatever steps she could to help restore the understanding between not only Vulcans and other races, but also to counter the insurgencies occurring between many other races due to the increased paranoia."

Jim looked at him. "So was it difficult for you growing up there, as a half-Vulcan?"

Spock stayed silent for a moment, processing the question, before he looked at the captain. "I faced some incidents of prejudice from my peers growing up. Racism has the unfortunate propensity to go both ways, and in my case, it did." Strangely, thinking about these things no longer held the same sting they had when they were happening to him years ago. Too much had changed for the universe in the last two years. "While Vulcanoids were facing misunderstanding in other parts of the Federation, non-Vulcans went through a phase where they faced various hurdles in breaking through some of the individual resistance that went as high as the Vulcan high council."

The look on Jim's face was solemn. "Was it hard on your mom?"

Spock let out a slow breath. "My mother was a... very strong individual. She believed in leading by example and spent a better part of her married life after the _Kelvin_ incident taking assignments on various Federation worlds to pursue mentoring duties and educational workshops to counter xenophobia." Talking about his mother also no longer felt like an exercise in heartbreak. Time was, it would seem, a great healer. "She took great joy in her volunteer work with the Diplomatic Corps." He looked at his friend. "She had been a teacher before her marriage, so such work came naturally to her."

Jim smiled. "You get that from her. You made one hell of a professor at the academy."

Spock inclined his head. "I am fortunate to have had her as an example to follow. "

"Absolutely," Jim agreed softly.

Spock paused for a moment, looking at Jim, and turned to the screen. "The Federation Diplomatic Corps did, and still does, a large amount of positive work for such causes. Another focus group that often worked in conjunction with the xenophobic branch is the Treatment and Rehabilitation of War Orphans. Interracial conflicts even between Federation worlds cause many lost lives, and the children are often the worst affected." He looked at Jim. "People who work with those orphaned children, sometimes even during wartime, have some of the most difficult tasks to accomplish."

Jim's eyes were on the screen as well. "That is what you've been reading up on. My mom's work with the Diplomatic Corps."

Spock watched his friend scroll through the data on the screen. "When I met her at her arrival, I realized I knew very little about her. Lt. George Kirk's accomplishments have been well-documented and the _Kelvin_ incident's case study is part of the curriculum taught to students on the command track. However, I knew nothing of how her life commenced after your father's death."

He looked at Jim. "She is a most formidable individual. She is someone who has undoubtedly faced many hardships in her life and her career as a Starfleet officer. I wished to know more about her. I hope you do not mind that I endeavored to look up her public record."

Jim undoubtedly already knew of his mother's involvement with the Diplomatic Corps. Perhaps, however, he was now looking at her _extrafleet causes_ with a new perspective.

"No, I don't mind, Spock." There was a slight smile on Jim's face. Spock realized his eyes looked a most beguiling shade of blue in this light. "Thank you," Jim said quietly. "She is... formidable." He looked into Spock's eyes. "I wonder if she ever met your mom."

Spock tilted his head. "I do not know. She joined the Diplomatic Corps several years after my mother. The activities of their focus groups took them to many places, but I do not know if their paths ever crossed."

Jim turned to the screen. "If she hasn't mentioned anything to you, then she probably didn't get to meet her."

"Perhaps."

* * *

He knew the answer to the question his mother had asked him. Had his life really been that horrible after she'd sent him to boarding and then left?

The answer was: no. His life hadn't always sucked. Sure, his mom had sent him off to boarding school, but his grandparents had been there. The Petersons had their home in Wyoming and even though he was living in the hostel, Jim had a home base with them.

If he tried a little harder, he could remember his Nana making hot chocolate for him when he came to visit them on the weekends, his nose red and freezing with the cold, and his teeth chattering, or his grandfather reading with him from _The Merchant of Venice_ or discussing whichever work of Ralph Waldo Emerson they were in the mood for. These were good memories.

But they were buried under a maelstrom of childish resentment and indignant anger. Some of it was applicable, but some was just that: childish indignation. That indignation had lived with him throughout his teenage years, and even through his early twenties.

He was twenty-seven years old. He was too old for childish indignation now.

* * *

That evening, when his mother was in the den by herself, Jim came to her and pulled her into a hug, murmuring that yes, he wanted to give this a fresh start.

If she may have shed a tear or two, he didn't let on - just continued holding her as she felt a sense of relief she didn't believe she truly deserved.

But it was a start.

* * *

The change in their moods was apparent in the air at dinner that night.

Christmas was just one day away now, and his mom suddenly seemed to have delved into full planning mode. They were going to have a tree, of course, though Winona was absolutely against the needless cutting of trees. So they were going to go with the second option; their artificial tree, which was stored in the utility shed next to the stables. Spock agreed to assist Jim in digging their way to it tomorrow, for which Jim was thankful. That famous Vulcan strength ought to be used for something non-'fleet-related for a change.

Winona also had to plan the Christmas meals accordingly, with a vegetarian on board—even though Spock insisted he did not have any specific requests, and that she did not have to worry about his meals. Jim knew she was on a roll, though. Nothing could stop her now.

After dinner, Spock excused himself to go and spend some time in the study as he was most fascinated by the volumes available there. This left mother and son by themselves.

It was with mugs of hot coffee in their hands that she started talking. "I've requested for transfer from the _St. Laurence_."

Jim looked at her in surprise. "What?"

She looked at him. "I can't work with Watson anymore. I'm just about through with that crazy old man."

"Mom, you work best as a foil to him," Jim interjected. "That's why they keep you two together. He won't be able to survive without you."

"Well, then, they can find someone else to babysit him," she sniffed. "I'm through."

He rolled his eyes. "_Mom_."

"You don't know what a disaster that last mission was, Jim," she stated, her voice high. "He caused a 'diplomatic incident' that nearly cost us fifteen lives. I can't take it anymore." She looked frustrated. "I wanted out after the first five years and they forced me to go back. Well, not anymore."

"That's because you two work." Jim sighed. "I know he's nuts, everyone knows that, but he is a great tactician. That's why they keep him around." He watched her. "And _you're_ the one who keeps him in order."

She laughed. "Oh, dammit, we're not talking about Jim Kirk and Spock here – _the_ perfect foils to each other." He blinked at her in surprise. "Matthew and I can't even stand each other," she said. "You only get a perfect command pair like yours once in a lifetime, kiddo."

He frowned. "We're not perfect, Mom." Then he paused. "Well, Spock probably is. But I'm not."

He watched her brow rise in her forehead. "You think... Spock is perfect?" She looked amused.

"Pretty much, yeah." Jim shrugged. "I mean, just look at him. He's amazing."

She watched him closely. "Hmm. I'm pretty sure he thinks you're amazing too." She still looked amused for some reason.

"What?" He stared at her.

"Oh. Nothing." She shrugged. "So, I'm probably going to retire."

He was taken aback. "I thought you just wanted to transfer."

"Well, in case they don't listen to me."

"They would listen to you," he said. "They could promote you."

She snorted. "Jim, I'm an Engineer. We don't get ships."

"You're also command trained," he stressed. "Of course, you can."

She shook her head. "I'm too old for this. If they don't transfer me, I'm out."

"And what're you going to do?" Jim stared at her. "Tend to the farm? Raise cows?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She scowled at him. "There is a lot I can do. Starfleet isn't the be all and end all of the universe."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "That's what I used to think. I spent years living under the shadow of Starfleet. I thought I could run away from it." He shrugged. "Turns out, I really couldn't."

"Oh well. We'll see."

* * *

Half of the day before Christmas was spent in shoveling the snow off the driveway.

Despite his superior Vulcan strength, shoveling snow was still hard work for Spock, especially because of the freezing temperatures and the slick ice hardened by the rain the day before. However, like any other job, their ability to work seamlessly as a team added to his and Jim's advantage, and, by mid-afternoon, they had cleared not only the driveway and the sidewalk, but had also paved a path all the way from the front step to the old shed next to the stables. They took a break for a late lunch when that part of the task was done, then got the artificial tree out of the shed and into the house.

Commander Kirk had dug three boxes of Christmas decorations out of somewhere, and, after the tree had been situated in a suitable position in front of the large window, she opened the boxes and set about giving directions on where each piece was to go.

Jim was most eager about telling Spock the details concerning each and every item. Each piece had histories and purposes that his friend was keen to share with Spock. He could notice Jim's mother looking at their interaction, but, at the moment, Spock was most fascinated by Jim's automatic assumption that Spock needed to be taught about Christmas.

Spock interrupted Jim's enthusiastic theory about how the crystal star should be affixed on top of the tree with, "Jim, you do realize my mother was human."

Jim stopped talking and stared at him. "Yes."

Spock felt the corners of his lips twitch. "She celebrated Christmas every year, even while living on Vulcan."

Jim seemed to deflate at the words. "...Oh. So - you've done the tree thing?"

"Indeed." Spock inclined his head. "I used to help her decorate as a child."

Jim threw his hands up in exasperation. "See?" He looked at his mother, who was laughing quietly. "This is the second time he'd done this to me. I keep thinking I'm showing him something new and here I find out he already knows about this stuff." He turned to Spock with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tell me you got a holovid of that, at least."

"I have several holovids," Spock replied primly. "If you wish, I can show them to you when we return to the ship."

"I would love that. I bet you were adorable as a kid." Jim laughed, and the sound sent an involuntary shiver down Spock's spine. He swallowed hard.

"So, not teaching you anything new, huh?" Jim asked him, his eyes smiling.

Spock felt Winona Kirk's eyes on his face and kept his expression neutral, as he replied, "I find that every new experience teaches us something new." He looked into his friend's eyes. "I feel... fortunate to share new experiences with my friends."

Jim clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Me too."

"Here's to new and happy experiences for all of us," Winona Kirk chimed in.

"Amen."

* * *

Christmas Day was filled with food. Jim didn't know how his mom had managed it without the replicator working, but she'd arranged a veritable feast for the three of them from the moment they woke up.

It started with pancakes and French toast with fruit and omelets for breakfast. Eggnog with rum followed an hour later as they sat in front of the fireplace talking about Starfleet traditions, which even Spock took two servings of—although the alcohol didn't seem to have any effect on him whatsoever. Then came lunch, complete with roasted turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet corn, cranberry sauce, and a delicious eggplant and spaghetti pie. All this served with chilled apple cider and finished off with fruitcake and plum pudding, which, Winona admitted, came from the frozen supplies. Jim hadn't had so much food since the Andorian Cultural Festival three months earlier.

Then came the time to exchange gifts, which, for Jim and Winona were quite literally non-existent at the moment. They'd sent their intended gifts to the headquarters for later delivery, as neither of them had expected the other to be in Riverside. But Jim knew the fact that they were sitting here, able to spend time like a family for the first time in years, was a gift in itself.

Jim had brought something for Spock, but he was surprised to see a wrapped box in Spock's hand, that was apparently intended for him as well. They'd never really exchanged gifts before. The previous year, Spock had utilized his time off to go and visit the Vulcan colony during holidays, and the year before, everything had been too new for the _Enterprise_ crew; Jim and Spock hadn't yet become close enough to consider each other friends.

Apparently, this Christmas was going to be the time for new beginnings.

Jim thanked the half-Vulcan and eagerly took the box from his hands. He carefully unwrapped the paper and removed the lid. A smile spread on his face when his eyes fell on the item inside: A thickly woven scarf knitted in green, made of what appeared to be the silkiest strands of wool he had ever seen. He picked it up and grinned even harder as the soft texture of the wool rubbed against his skin.

He looked up at Spock and caught an almost anxious expression on his face. "As you have shown a fondness for snow and have a tendency to take long, unplanned walks in the middle of freezing weather," Spock began as Jim chuckled. "I thought you could use a woolen Antoren scarf for your future endeavors. It is made from the fur of an Antoren mountain sheep, which are known for producing high-quality fibers of a thicker density and a diameter less than 16 microns, which is both elastic and quite durable. It will keep you well-insulated against the elements anytime you decide to take a walk."

Jim laughed out loud as he took the scarf out and wrapped it around his neck, sighing at the soft texture of it. "Thank you, Spock, I love it."

Spock tilted his head, looking relieved. "I am gratified to hear that."

Jim turned and picked up the package he had with him and handed it to his friend. "Merry Christmas, Spock."

Spock looked startled for a second, before gracefully accepting the gift. "Thank you," he said, his eyes looking at Jim questioningly.

"Open it." Jim grinned.

He watched Spock unwrap the box, which was slightly heavier than the one Spock had given him – and for good reasons. He removed the cover and Jim watched one slanted brow rise in his forehead as he took out the object.

"A PADD." Spock looked at the device in confusion.

"Not just a regular PADD, Spock," Jim explained. "It's an ergonomically-friendly one, designed specifically with your Vulcan bone structure in mind." He watched Spock blink at him in question. "I've seen you work long and hard on those PADDs, Spock. They're designed for humans. Those keypad placements can't be very comfortable for you, but I know you never complain."

He smiled. "Now this baby is not only designed with your comfort in mind. It can be linked with any computer, and has a mini-transceiver installed which can detect subspace radio waves up to a distance of at least 100 kilometers, as well as a language conversion database for 150 dialects spoken across the Federation. It can also store up to fifteen trillion exabytes of data." Jim grinned. "Now you can hook up this thing to any system on the _Enterprise_ or anywhere else you go. You don't need to carry multiple PADDs anymore - this one will carry all your data."

Jim knew Spock was attempting to go for the nonchalant look, but he just basically looked stunned. "I... thank you, Jim," he repeated after a moment, his eyes wide and his face turning a very pleasant shade of sage. "This is a most thoughtful gift. I am sure I will find it most useful."

"Hey, you're welcome," Jim said, loving this look on his friend's face. It wasn't often he was able to surprise Spock like this - and in a good way too. He looked at his mother and found her smiling as well. Which was no shock in itself. She seemed to have become quite fond of the half-Vulcan.

They were all still sitting around, soaking in the warmth of the fireplace, when they heard the blinking of the power relay system begin. They looked around, and Jim whooped in enthusiasm. The power had finally been restored. They heard the sound of an engine outside, and Winona jumped up from her perch and opened the curtains.

"Look, the snow blower's here!" she exclaimed.

Spock and Jim joined her at the window. Indeed, a large snow blower was outside, slowly moving along the street. Finally, they weren't stranded. Help had arrived.

At some point in the early evening, Winona decided they had to have holographic evidence of this vacation and took out a holocamera. Spock was content to take holopics of Jim and his mother, but when he was dragged in a few pictures himself, he seemed reluctant. These were private family holographs, he insisted - to which Jim and Winona retorted that after spending five days with the Kirks while stranded in a snowstorm, Spock ought to consider himself as good as family. Winona had the camera in her hand, and she was directing Jim and Spock to stand here, and there, and yes, right there, so that she could get a clear shot.

They were standing under the doorway to the den when Jim's mom suddenly froze, lowered the camera, and grinned at them impishly. She cleared her throat. "Oh, boys."

Jim stared at her. "What?"

She smiled widely, her eyes dancing, but said nothing.

"What?" Jim repeated.

She raised her eyebrows and pointed to a point above them. Jim and Spock both looked up at top of the doorframe and Jim quietly swore as he felt Spock freeze next to him.

_Mistletoe. _

He looked at his mom, rolling his eyes. "Oh, come on."

"It's tradition, honey," she stated, straight-faced. "You're going to flout tradition in your own home?"

"Mom, please." Jim felt an embarrassing blush start on his face. He stole a look at Spock's face and found him standing absolutely still, his face utterly impassive. He looked at his mother. "Stop it."

"What?" She looked unrepentant, her eyes glinting mischievously. "It's just a kiss."

He felt scandalized. "For God's sake - It's Spock," he lowered his voice, even though his friend was standing right next to him. He couldn't believe his mom would act like this in front of his First Officer. _Mistletoe? _"Spock, don't pay any attention to her. She's crazy."

"Jim," Spock started, but was cut off by Winona.

"I'm not crazy." Winona looked at them imperiously, an evil grin on her face. "I just like things a certain way. It's just mistletoe." She looked from him to Spock, then back to him. "What are you afraid of? He's not gonna bite your head off, trust me."

Jim felt his teeth gritting. "Christ. I'm sorry, Spock..." And just when he thought she was actually going to act like a responsible, mature, human being. He glared at her, feeling his blush getting darker as her grin literally widened with every passing second. She thought this was funny. _Funny. _

"Jim." Spock started again.

But Jim was feeling too embarrassed to let his friend tell him otherwise. "Seriously, she's absolutely nuts. I don't have a clue what's gotten into her." He huffed, wanting to literally stomp his feet and walk away when he felt Spock's hand on his elbow.

_"Jim." _

"What?" He turned to his friend. "What?" Jim repeated, and then blinked when he realized what he was seeing. Spock had his face schooled into a careful non-expression, but he held his right hand up. Jim blinked again. His right hand up, with his index and middle fingers joined and raised in a... decidedly Vulcan gesture.

"Oh," Jim said dumbly.

"Oh, for crying out _loud_," Winona groaned.

Spock looked at her, looking absolutely composed. "You said it is 'just a kiss.'" He gave her a long look, then turned to Jim. "This is the Vulcan way."

"It doesn't count," Winona insisted.

"It totally does," Jim said, then laughed shakily, his voice sounding loud to his own years. He looked at his friend and raised his own hand, attempting to mimic the gesture. "Here - like this?"

Spock's gaze fell on his raised hand and Jim watched him bring his fingers closer to Jim's. "Indeed."

Their fingers touched, and Jim felt an odd little spark between them at the point of contact. He watched Spock's fingers gently touch the tips of his fingers, then rub up and down the length in an oddly intimate gesture. Jim had a sudden urge to hum in appreciation, which he immediately squashed, when he felt a tingle in his skin as the action was repeated a second time.

He looked at Spock's face. The half-Vulcan was looking at their joined fingers, his eyes slightly glazed, as the same sage tint covered his cheeks. Odd, how he'd never noticed these things about Spock before.

"Coward," his mother's admonition took him out of his near-trance, as Spock lowered his hand and looked at him once before turning away.

He watched Spock for a second, then looked at his mother, scowling. "I'm not a coward."

"No," she admitted ruefully. "You're just... a Kirk."

Whatever _that_ meant?

* * *

Dinner, although short, was an awkward affair, with Winona Kirk in an overly cheerful mood and Jim acting strangely grumpy. It fell on Spock to keep the conversation going, making an attempt to keep Jim engaged and subtly letting him know that he had no reason to feel unsettled. He knew Jim was embarrassed at the mistletoe incident—although, Spock was not sure whom he was more embarrassed for, himself or Spock. If it was the latter, then it was needless as Spock did not embarrass easily, and if it was the former, then it was most unfortunate.

Winona Kirk's open smiles, however, seemed to indicate everything was under control. Spock could not understand how she appeared so sure of the outcome when Jim had never expressed an interest in Spock as anything more than a friend. Human females could be most confusing.

After the dinner, he excused himself and went out the back door. The night was chilly, but the clouds had parted somewhat during the evening and he could make out some constellations from his position. He was only outside for a few minutes when the door opened and Jim came out with two steaming mugs.

"Here." He offered one to Spock, a hesitant smile on his face. "Tea for you."

Spock inclined his head. "Thank you, Jim."

"No problem."

They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping tea, and watching the sky. Then Jim cleared his throat.

"Spock," he began, "I'm so sorry for my mom's... obnoxious behavior." He sounded exasperated. "I mean, I can see that she likes you. I don't know why she'd try to embarrass you."

Spock looked at him. "I am not... embarrassed, Jim."

Jim chuckled. "Of course not. The 'Vulcan calm' and all that. You're never fazed." He made a face. "But still..."

Spock stared at his friend. The last few days had been some of the most enlightening of Spock's life. He had always considered Jim a close friend, but he had never felt so close to him as he'd felt these last five days. And Winona Kirk was a fascinating human. She seemed to have a certain intuition about not only her son but Spock as well - about which Spock was not entirely sure, but perhaps it would be worthwhile to pay heed to what she had been saying to him. He knew his regard for Jim had only grown in the last five days, and he knew he was not going to stop feeling the way he did when he went back to the _Enterprise_.

Perhaps it would be worthwhile to take a chance.

He took a deep breath and looked at Jim. "That is not what I meant."

"What?" Jim looked at him. "About what?"

"About why I am not embarrassed."

Jim's eyebrows came together in puzzlement. "What are you saying?"

Spock opened his mouth to speak, and paused, not having a good idea how to express his feelings. "Perhaps I am a little... fazed." He looked at Jim, who was looking more and more confused. "But... not truly embarrassed."

"Spock."

"Yes, Jim."

Jim looked at him closely. "What are we talking about?"

Spock willed his heart to stop beating so loudly in his side. He was sure Jim could hear his heartbeat. "We are talking about... our kiss under the mistletoe."

Jim bit his lower lip. "The... finger thing?"

Spock could not help but raise a brow at that. "You do realize... that is a very intimate gesture for a Vulcan to make."

"Um. Kinda." Jim looked anxious for some reason. "Spock?"

"Yes, Jim."

"What are you saying?"

Spock looked at him in the eyes. "I have not actually said anything as yet."

Jim watched his face. "Maybe you should, because I'm totally confused now."

Spock inclined his head. "Perhaps."

Jim watched him for a moment, then prompted, "So?"

Spock cleared his throat. "Jim."

"Yes?" Jim looked at him keenly.

Spock took a deep breath and then blurted out, "Jim, I...would not be opposed to a more... intimate relationship with you."

Jim's eyes widened. "You... you..." he stuttered, "are you... Spock..."

Spock felt a quiver at his side. "Yes, Jim." He hoped his voice did not shake.

Jim stared at him in what appeared to be... shock? "You... _like_ me?"

"Indeed."

"But you're..." Jim looked baffled. "Spock... you're..."

That quiver became a sudden pounding. Spock suddenly realized he had made a miscalculation. "Jim."

"I can't believe this is happening." Jim looked at him in shock. "You're... Spock, you're..."

Spock hurried to assure him, to attempt to correct his gross oversight, "There is no compulsion to reciprocate these feelings, Jim." He did not know how he had allowed this to happen.

"Captain," Spock said, looking seriously at him. "I am content in simply being your friend. I did not mean to put you in an awkward position. I apologize if I appear to be presumptuous, as that was not my..."

"No!" Jim suddenly gripped his arm, his eyes widening as he shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no, no, no! No, Spock." He stared into Spock's eyes and it seemed there was something in their blue depths that Spock had never seen before. "No, no. That's _not_ what I'm saying. You didn't offend me. You couldn't ever offend me. That wasn't what I meant."

Spock watched him closely, his heart beating loudly in his ears. "Then, what did you mean, Jim?"

"You," Jim stated, his eyes still wide with incredulity, as Spock felt his forearm squeezed in Jim's grip. "I can't believe it's you. You are... Spock, you're perfect."

Spock felt his brows furrow as he stared at his friend, the words incomprehensible to him. "What are you..."

"You, Spock." A smile spread on Jim's face. "You are absolutely, unfathomably _perfect_."

Spock felt as if the earth had suddenly tilted in its axis. He looked at the smile on Jim's face with something akin to amazement. "No being in this universe is absolutely perfect," he said slowly. "Even the hydrogen atom with its single electron moving in a synchronous orbit around the nucleus has a variation of 0.0035 to the millionth factor, and thus is not perfect."

Jim suddenly laughed. "Spock, you're... unbelievable. But perfect. Definitely." He again squeezed Spock's arm, his hands warm even through the sleeve. "The hydrogen molecule has nothing on you."

Spock lifted a brow. "You are making fun of me."

"No, I'm not." Jim smiled. "I swear to God, I'm not. I just... can't get over this." That unfathomable look in the blue eyes was segueing into a familiar gentleness that Spock had seen many times in Jim's eyes before. But it was accompanied by wonder, the likes of which he had _never_ seen before. "That you feel for me this way. And no, it has nothing to do with me feeling uncomfortable." Jim looked at Spock firmly, his voice soft. "Because that's not what this is. I'm feeling more like... gobsmacked."

Spock felt a smile threaten to break at the corners of his lips. "That is an... interesting word."

"Yes." Jim looked deep into his eyes. "_Gobsmacked_. Shaken to my core. Yeah." He smiled again. "That's what happens when I have the most _perfect_ man tell me that he likes me." The smile got wider.

Spock looked at him questioningly. "You are not-"

He froze when he felt Jim's hands slide from his sleeve to the bare patch of skin above Spock's gloves, and he felt the hum of his emotions at that touch. Unlike the touch under the mistletoe, which was full of anxious, wary apprehension, this one thrummed with wonder and anticipation. _Eager_ anticipation.

Spock looked at Jim closely and felt his whole being fill with the same wonder. He had taken a chance, not knowing what he would get in return. But never in a thousand years could he have expected this. He knew whatever Jim was feeling, it was _not_ negative.

Inexplicably, Jim seemed to sense what he was thinking, as he asked, "What? Disturbed? Put off?" It was as if he could read the question in Spock's eyes. Such level of communication was rare in the absence of a telepathic link. "Not at all." Jim shrugged. "I'm just... amazed that you..." A smile twisted his lips "...that you think I'm hot?"

Spock raised his brow as the smile on Jim's face widened. "Hey Spock, you think I'm hot?"

Spock looked at him solemnly. "Your ambient temperature is, in fact, lower than mine," he stated calmly. "If we are to talk in these terms, then I would say that I find you... quite cool."

Jim laughed out at that. "So I'm not hot. I'm cool."

Spock felt his lips twitch, as he otherwise tried to keep his face impassive. "You have many admirable qualities."

"Wow." Jim grinned. "Mr. Perfect thinks... I'm _admirable_."

"As I have stated already, I am not 'perfect.'"

"Well, tough luck," Jim said determinedly. "I think you are."

Spock sighed imperceptibly. "_Jim_."

Jim sobered for a second. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make fun of you, promise." He smiled again.

"I believe you." Spock inclined his head. "And I have a request to make."

"Go ahead."

He looked at him closely. "Jim," he began, "perhaps, you should allow yourself to think over what I have proposed. It would not be prudent to rush through a decision of this nature, however, it turns out to be. And let me assure you that whatever you decide will be acceptable to me."

He paused for a moment, watching Jim's eyes looking at his face. "However, I would hope that... you will not think any less of myself, as your friendship means a great deal to me. I would never want to lose that for any reason."

Jim's eyes turned even softer, if that was possible, his smile now a gentle tug at the corners of his mouth. He let go of Spock's hand and patted his elbow reassuringly. "That is something that will never happen, Spock."

Spock met his eyes. "I hope you are correct in your assumption."

* * *

That night, as Jim lay down on his bed, his whole body was buzzing with a strange, uncontrollable energy.

Spock _liked_ him. Had _feelings_ for him. The mistletoe thing hadn't embarrassed him. He actually thought Jim was worth something, was worth pursuing. He'd actually come out and _told_ him that he wanted to pursue a romantic relationship.

Spock. His amazing, wonderful, kickass First Officer thought he was the shit. The guy half the ship's denizens were hopelessly in lust with thought he, James Tiberius Kirk, was... admirable. Jim grinned. It was no small feat, being liked by a Vulcan - and by no means an ordinary Vulcan, but the hottest Vulcan Jim had ever come across. Jim wasn't blind - he knew the dude was drop dead gorgeous. True, Jim himself was no chopped liver, either, but man, _Spock_. He really was something else.

Jim knew what he was feeling was more than just lust here. He was absolutely, unbearably fond of Spock, and had been for a long, long while. Even in the early days, when they were still finding their feet around each other, Spock's opinion had meant a great deal to Jim. Over the last two years, they'd bonded and become a truly harmonized command team.

He knew he liked Spock _very_, very much. Maybe he even loved him a little. If he was going to go for this thing, he knew it wouldn't be like his usual affairs. This had the potential to be big.

_Spock_. Jim simply couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't believe this was really happening. This felt like... the universe had suddenly shifted somehow. The planets had realigned; their orbits had tilted, altered course; chosen a new path.

But somehow, he knew this wasn't going to be a disaster – how, he wasn't sure. Except... Spock was always there to watch his back. He trusted Spock. He trusted Spock not to let him fuck this up.

Jim closed his eyes, and willed himself to sleep. But the smile stayed on his face for a long time.

* * *

The next morning, Spock got up early and went downstairs, only to find Winona Kirk sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee.

She looked at him eagerly, so he nodded at her politely and then ignored her, pouring himself tea and grabbing a piece of toast from the plate, feeling in need of a light breakfast this morning.

Winona Kirk, however, wasn't to be deterred. She looked at him as he seated himself and took a bite of the toast. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then raised the cup of tea to his lips and sipped from it.

"So, did you tell him?"

He sighed, looked up at her. "Mrs. Kirk."

"Winona."

"Mrs. Kirk," he repeated, "you have interfered enough."

She stared at him. "Are you calling me a meddling old woman?"

He looked at her impassively. "I would never be so insensitive so as to bring undue attention to your advanced years."

She rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Spock."

"I am not trying to be funny."

"No, you're only trying to be evasive." She sighed impatiently. "Did you tell him?"

He breathed in deeply. "Yes, I did."

"What did he say?"

"He said many things, none of which are any of your business."

A frown formed on her forehead. "He put his foot in his mouth, didn't he?" The frown deepened. "I knew it."

He stared at her coolly. "At no point during the course of our discussion did he attempt to fit the terminal point of his lower limb into his oral cavity."

"Right." She huffed. "I keep forgetting that Vulcan don't apparently joke."

He sipped from the tea. "I assure you, we do not."

She watched him eat for a moment, then said, "You both slept in your own rooms; separately."

He felt his brow rise. "Where else did you expect us to sleep?"

"_Separately_, Spock," she repeated. "After that whole mistletoe thing. And that... hideously adorable display of archaic Vulcan affection." She stared at him. "You slept in _separate rooms_."

This time both brows rose in his forehead. "I see." He put the cup down and looked at her. "You expected us to indulge in sexual intercourse after sharing one Vulcan kiss."

"Well, yeah." She shrugged. "That... and the discussion."

He picked up a second toast. "It is quite apparent to me that you do not, in fact, know anything about Vulcans."

She grimaced. "So it didn't go well, huh?"

"It went as well as it could have," he intoned. "I request that you now cease your interference."

"Oh." She didn't sound too happy with that. "Okay. As you wish."

"I do," he insisted, as he heard the sounds of footsteps descending the stairs. "Please," his voice turned lower.

She had done enough. The rest of it had to evolve in a natural course. Now, he only wished she would comply with his wishes.

* * *

Jim walked into the living room to find his mother and Spock having breakfast. There was something crackling in the air as he greeted them, and got subdued responses from both.

He frowned, as he stared at them. "What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing."

Both of them spoke in tandem. What the hell was going on?

"Sure." He nodded. "Yeah. I totally believe that."

"You want some French toast, honey?" His mother suddenly asked, her voice honey sweet.

He looked at the carefully schooled expression on Spock's face and scowled at her. "Um... sure."

"I also have fresh guava juice," his mother added, looking up at him. "You should have some. Guavas are said to be rich in all those important B vitamins. They stimulate brain function and promote blood flow." She smiled. "Get all those cognitive functions working at full capacity. You know, helps you make those _hard_ decisions." She raised a brow at him. "What do you say?"

Oh Jesus. Jim sighed. "Mom."

"I believe I will check on the comm system and see if the link has stabilized." Spock pulled back his chair and got up. "I am expecting a message from Mr. Scott."

"Spock?" Jim gripped his wrist, stopping him from moving too quickly.

Spock looked at him, his eyes questioning. "Yes, Jim?"

Jim looked into his eyes. "I will catch up with you in a while, all right?" He smiled.

Spock looked at him a moment, then inclined his head. "Very well. I look forward to it."

"Me too," Jim murmured as he let Spock go.

He watched him go upstairs, and then turned to his mother. She looked up at him, none too innocent.

He glowered at her. "You talked to Spock about me."

"Sure." She shrugged. "He's your friend, Jim."

"No." He shook his head, suddenly feeling like the pieces were falling into place. Though, what shape they were emerging as, he wasn't sure of yet. "I mean... you talked to Spock about _me_. As in... _relationship me_!"

"Well, he's a smart guy." His mother shrugged. "It seemed more _logical_ to talk to him."

Jim looked at her disbelievingly. "And what am I? Pork chop? A chunk of wood?"

"No, you're a Kirk," she replied exasperatedly. "I know your type; I spent two years pursuing one during the academy." She snorted. "You wouldn't know an obvious thing right under your cute little button nose."

"Mom, I'm your son. Spock is practically a stranger to you."

She looked at him sweetly. "And I can see how absolutely, utterly besotted he is with you."

He rolled his eyes. "Mom."

"_Utterly_, Jim." She suddenly looked serious, all hint of joking gone from her demeanor. "You should see the way he looks at you," she said softly. "It gives me hope."

He watched her. "For what?"

"That... well, that love like that can still exist. He would do _anything_ for you, Jim."

His chest suddenly felt tight with a feeling he could not yet name. "I know, Mom." He looked at her. "I would do anything for him, too. He's my... closest friend."

"And he's loyal." She looked into his eyes, then smiled. "And charismatic. And beautiful. And absolutely, terrifyingly intelligent. Do you know that?"

He sighed. "Yes, of course."

She nodded. "Then I don't need to say anything else. You're no chunk of wood. You should be able to figure it out yourself."

"You're absolutely right," he stated. "And I am."

"Good."

* * *

**Continued in Riverside Part 4 of 4**


	4. Chapter 4

**Riverside, Part 4 of 4**

The comm link was finally working, which allowed Spock to link up the new portable device Jim had given him with his old one and check its features while he downloaded his messages.

There were two from Lt. Commander Scott - one to update him on the repair reports he had received and one to wish him happy holidays; one each from Nyota, Lt. Sulu and Ensign Chekov, and Nurse Chapel wishing him the same—which, no doubt the captain had also received—and three more from his Canadian cousin on subspace channel. He was making quick replies to each when there was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Jim.

Jim looked at him working on the portable device and smiled brilliantly. "What do you think of the features?" He sat down on the chair next to Spock.

"I have just begun to run through the diagnostics and the various upgrades from the previous operating systems in similar devices." He scrolled down the screen. "It is by far the most superior model I have come across. I will be able to do a complete run of all the features once all my data has been transferred." Spock looked at Jim and added. "You have, as always, shown impeccable judgment."

Then he froze, realizing how the words could be interpreted. He did not wish to come across as if he was forcing his friend in making a decision in haste.

But when he looked at Jim, there was no sign of censure on his face, only a gentle smile. "I'm glad it works for you, Spock."

Spock inclined his head, and turned back to the device, keeping an eye on the data transfer progress as he perused the data sent by Scotty. He could feel Jim's eyes on his face, but compelled himself to focus on his task, trying not to fidget under his friend's regard.

He had only gone 1.35 minutes in silence when Jim softly murmured, "Okay."

Spock looked at Jim. "Pardon?"

That smile was still on Jim's face, warming his eyes in a most endearing manner. "Let's do it."

Spock looked closely at him, his heart beating faster in his side. "You mean to say-"

"Yeah." Jim grinned. "You're hot; I'm hot. We're friends. We already get along perfectly." Jim looked down at his hands, then back up, something almost shy filling his blue eyes. "I think this could work. I want to give this a try."

Spock breathed out slowly. "Jim, I- Thank you."

Jim smiled widely. "Hey, thank _you_ for... giving me this gift. You already rocked in my opinion." He chuckled, a roguish glint in his eyes. "Now I can admire your more... aesthetic qualities as well."

Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as it would not be very Vulcan. "Jim."

"Yes, Spock," Jim asked.

"I have a request."

"Go ahead."

Spock watched Jim's eyes, relieved that the playfulness did not dilute the genuine goodwill so obvious in their depths. "I would prefer..." he hesitated.

Jim watched him eagerly. "What?"

Spock began again, "I do not wish this to be..." he paused.

Jim stopped smiling. "What, Spock?"

Spock attempted again: "When we go back to the ship, I do not wish for us to face any awkwardness."

Jim frowned. "Why would we?"

Spock sighed. "Jim."

"What?'

He looked at his friend's face closely. "Over the past 2.16 years, we have spent 92.53% of our time on the ship. This... relationship that we have, as fellow officers, as comrades - as friends - has originated on the ship."

Jim watched him. "Yeah."

"Whatever it has progressed to, whether you and I were aware of it or not - it happened on the _Enterprise_."

Jim nodded. "Right."

Spock breathed in slowly. "I would prefer that... whatever further steps we take to ascend our affiliation to a more intimate level, to originate on the ship as well." He searched Jim's eyes for any sign of offense but could see nothing of the sort. He continued, "I would want this... to be the 'norm,' rather than an anomaly."

Jim looked into his eyes, his face serious. "You want to wait... till we get back to the ship."

"Affirmative." Spock inclined his head. "Is that agreeable?"

Jim took a deep breath, a contemplative smile on his face. "Yeah, Spock. I can wait for a few more days." His lips twitched. "It'll be hell, but I can wait."

"Indeed."

He watched Spock for a moment, and then the corners of his eyes crinkled, "But I need something in return."

Spock asked, "What?"

"Since we're waiting - and by 'waiting,' you probably mean we can't kiss in the human way," he said, his eyes dropping to where Spock's hands were on the keypad of the portable device before lifting his own hands and placing them too on the desktop. He lifted his head to lock Spock's eyes in his suddenly heated gaze. "You'll let me... kiss you in the Vulcan way."

Spock felt heat rise in his face. "Jim, that is also a very intimate gesture."

"I know." Jim grinned. "But we've already done that. And in front of my mom, too." He watched Spock. "Please. Let me have this."

There was something almost ardent in Jim's tone. Spock could see the play of emotions on his already expressive face and felt his heart rate increase. He looked down at Jim's hands and felt the heat on his face spread across his cheeks. He knew these hands to be adept at whichever tasks his captain took on. Adept, and sure, and strong.

He looked up at Jim's face and nodded. "Very well."

Jim beamed. "So you want this to be the _norm_, huh?"

"I do."

He held his breath as Jim moved his right hand over Spock's left, resting it palm down over it, and then slowly rubbed the pads of his fingers over Spock's knuckles. Spock fought the impulse to close his eyes in the sudden onslaught of ecstasy. No touch upon his person had ever felt as intimate as this simple graze of fingers did. Jim's eyes were on his face as he murmured, his voice sounding rough, "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful hands, Mr. Spock?"

Spock swallowed heavily. "Yes, they have."

Jim exhaled. "So truthful."

Spock lifted a brow. "I find there is no reason to lie, Jim."

"Of course not." He grinned. "I'm just wondering - would you let me hold your hand on the bridge?"

Spock lifted a brow. "I will not."

Jim's eyes were smiling. "Denying me already, Spock? That's not very romantic."

Spock watched the amusement in Jim's eyes. "Holding hands on the bridge while on duty would be most illogical, Captain."

"Would it?" Jim's tone was innocent. "Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we?"

* * *

That night, Jim took Spock out for the dinner they hadn't been able to make when his mom had arrived during their second night at the house.

_Cerino_, the Italian place on Vine Street hadn't changed much in four years. The moment Jim walked inside with Spock, he felt immediately at home. It was a charming little place with low-ceiling surroundings and wicker basket Chianti bottles hanging from nails and cheese grates covering the lights. They were greeted at the door by the _Maître d'_ and were promptly escorted to their table situated a couple of steps down into the interior dining room, nestled into an intimate corner. It was a cozy setting, a most suitable place for quite a romantic date. Jim smiled when he realized this was the exact same place he'd booked the last time, even when none of this was going on.

They placed their orders amidst the mouthwatering aroma of garlic and herbs wafting from the kitchen: rice croquettes with mozzarella for starters, then rigatoni with eggplant and dried tomato pesto for Spock and marinated roast peppers for Jim, and a _panzanella_ salad to share. It was all vegetarian, and he noticed Spock getting ready to admonish him for depriving himself of meat for Spock's sake, so Jim cut him off before he could begin. He told Spock that he wanted to eat vegetarian, as he'd had enough meat over the holidays to last a few weeks. Spock acquiesced at that, though he still looked a little suspicious.

Jim remained determined. Technically, this was their first date. Jim was not going to be eating meat in front of Spock right now.

_First date_. Damn. Jim had no idea how all this had actually come about. He still felt like he was dreaming and he'd be rudely woken up at any moment and all of this would be over.

He looked at Spock over their wine glasses and mused at the enigma that was his First Officer. Spock was wearing his black parka over a navy blue cardigan and dark trousers, and probably two other layers insides so as to beat the chill, and Jim couldn't help but be reminded of the way he'd reacted at seeing this ensemble the first time he'd seen Spock wearing it. That'd been in the transporter room just a few days back, when they were beaming down from the _Enterprise_. He remembered he'd teased Spock about his 'chic coat,' had even whistled like a darn Lothario.

And all the while, Spock had actually harbored feelings for Jim.

But flirting was like second nature to Jim. He flirted with everyone, even Bones, and it didn't mean anything. At least, it didn't mean anything with Bones, he grinned. He also flirted with people with whom he _did_ want something to happen. He just flirted; it happened.

However, looking back on it in hindsight, he wondered if perhaps there had been something brewing under the surface with Spock that he hadn't realized. They'd served together for two years, and he hadn't known anything, had been oblivious to the undercurrents all that time. Would Spock have said anything at all if Winona hadn't, in a way, forced his hand? He'd asked Spock this and had only gotten a murmured, "I do not know, Jim."

Their dinner came and they dug into it with gusto. Everything was as delicious as Jim had remembered it. Over his meal, he watched Spock eat with his characteristic gracefulness, his movements economical and elegant. He'd always enjoyed watching Spock eat. Everything he did was always so refined and cultured - the way he held the fork and knife; the way he took the bite on the fork into his mouth, the way he chewed.

But tonight Jim was noticing things he'd never done so before. The way the long line of Spock's throat looked when he swallowed a bite. How his mouth glistened when he sucked on an olive and took it into his mouth. The way his neatly trimmed fingernails sparkled almost white on his elegant, long fingers. The fine sprinkling of fuzzy hairs on the back of his hands. Jim knew they went all the way over his forearm, and. he knew there was more. He'd seen Spock shirtless many times in the gym, and once in sickbay a few months ago, after he'd gotten injured on an away mission and had spent sixteen hours in a healing trance.

Jim remembered how hard those hours had been on him. He'd thought he was worried because Spock was his First Officer and friend. The thought of anything happening to Spock now sent a chill down his spine.

He shook his head. No point in thinking about those things now. He looked up and noticed Spock staring at him in question.

"Is something the matter, Jim?"

Jim stared at the raised eyebrow and allowed the good feelings from a moment ago to come back to him. He smiled. That eyebrow had always fascinated him.

"Nothing, Spock." He grinned, taking a sip of his wine. "Just thinking."

"Were you thinking about anything in particular?"

And Jim's gaze fell on Spock's mouth again, the way his lips moved when he talked. Spock really had the most perfect cupid's bow mouth. Jim suddenly had an inappropriate urge to reach out and run his fingers on the outline of Spock's mouth - first the upper lip, then the lower. It looked so soft and succulent.

But he knew he couldn't. Spock had given him permission to touch his hands only, and that too in private, never in public. Public hand touching was an absolute taboo in Vulcan culture.

He smiled. "Just... appreciating the aesthetics, Spock."

And it happened again. That beautiful sage blush spread across Spock's cheeks and _Jesus_, if that wasn't fucking gorgeous to behold, Jim didn't know what was.

Spock recovered quickly. "I have noticed your tendency to let your mind wander at the most inopportune times." He raised his eyebrow. "Your dinner is undoubtedly becoming cold."

Jim's smile widened as he picked up the fork again and went back to the meal. The hour passed quickly after that, conversation coming easily to them and without any awkwardness that might have existed had they been strangers before tonight. Or maybe not - maybe, it wouldn't have been awkward even then. They'd always had a connection. They'd had an antagonistic beginning and an explosive start, but, while they'd worked more than adequately on their own, their true creative genius had only come alive when they'd joined their forces together. Jim had realized a while ago that he and Spock worked best when they worked together.

Neither of them were in the mood for dessert, so when dinner was over and Jim had paid, they went for a short walk to the park near the main city square. Most of the shops were still closed, the crowd much thinner this time of the year - most people were still celebrating the holidays either at home or out of town. The weather hadn't helped much either, Jim realized, as he felt Spock shiver next to him—it was time to go back.

On their way back to the house, after a few minutes of manual driving, Jim turned on the autodriver program and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He stayed quiet like this for a few minutes, then keeping his eyes closed, reached out with his right hand to grab Spock's left.

And there it was - that little sizzle that went through their skin every time he touched Spock's hands. He ran his fingers slowly over Spock's knuckles and heard him breathe in sharply.

"Jim," he murmured, his gravelly tone raising goose bumps over his skin, "I believed you said you were going to show some restraint."

Jim snorted. "Trust me, Spock. If all I'm doing is touching your hands until we get back to the ship, then that is the height of showing restraint as far as I'm concerned."

He felt rather than heard Spock sigh next to him.

And he smiled.

* * *

It did not get better the next day.

The firewood supply had run out, so Jim had requested Spock's assistance in helping him collect appropriate kindling for the fireplaces. Jim had taken the lasersaw out of the toolshed, and they had gone out into the woods to find suitable downed trees for the purpose. Within a period of 2.3 hours, they had collected enough firewood to last them another week.

However, it was after completing this task, when they had come back inside the house and Mrs. Kirk had provided them with a tray of freshly baked cookies and hot tea out on the back porch, that Jim had begun again. He reached out and took hold of Spock's hand and started running his fingers over Spock's upturned palm.

Spock took in a staggering breath, calling for his ironclad controls that had rarely failed him in the past but which were seemingly teetering on the precipice of utter annihilation at the moment. "Jim, you are doing this on purpose."

"What?" Jim murmured, holding Spock's right hand in his grip as he ran the index finger of his other hand over the lines on Spock's palm. "Oh, touching your hand?" He sounded nonchalant. "Of course."

Why had Spock agreed to this again? "I asked you to-"

"-to show a little restraint. And I'm trying, Spock, I swear I am." His voice was full of laughter.

Spock huffed. "It does not look as though you are trying very hard." He closed his eyes as he endured a particularly erotic stroke across his index finger. He swallowed. "Jim, your mother is here."

"And she knows all about Vulcan hand kisses," Jim reminded Spock. "She pushed us into this thing, remember."

"That is true," Spock admitted. "However, I would ask you to show some self-control." Did Jim not know what touching Vulcan hands in this way truly meant? "You do realize this activity is essentially Vulcan foreplay."

Jim laughed. "Man, I had some idea, but I had no reason to ever hope you could ever get like this." It was apparent he was enjoying this on every level. "If only I'd known."

Spock frowned, trying to focus his mind on the spoken words rather than the tantalizing touch. "If you had known, what would you have done?"

"I would've... thrown caution to the wind and been the first one to proposition."

Spock felt puzzled. "I was not aware you had any feelings for me."

"Oh, I had plenty of feelings, my friend," Jim hummed. "I just didn't know you could be like this... or I would certainly have explored all other... options."

_All other options_. Besides touching Vulcan hands, he meant. Spock could show him other options. In fact, he could show him options that he was positive Jim had never even considered before, when they returned to the ship. "I do not think you have any idea what you are doing to me, Jim."

Jim chuckled. "That's okay. You can explain to me in detail when we go back to the ship."

And he would. He most definitely would.

* * *

His mother had started looking at them strangely.

Jim knew that look. It was the 'I know you're up to no good, kiddo' look Winona had worn every time Jim was about to do something stupid, or dangerous.

But this wasn't stupid. Although, maybe it was a little dangerous.

Jim knew he was ruffling some very fine feathers here. While he realized that Spock liked being touched, he could also feel that slight tremor of tension building in his lean frame every time Jim touched him. And how he _loved_ touching him. It wasn't fucking _fair_, to be so close and yet so far. He wanted to not just _touch_ Spock, but to wrap his arms around him. What was wrong with that? And it wasn't like Spock didn't want this, either.

He remembered that moment when he'd run his thumbnail along the inside of Spock's middle finger and had heard a gasp emit from the half-Vulcan's lips. Christ, _how_ had he never noticed how beautiful this man was?

Touching Spock was like touching a large wild cat. It might let you pet it, but you can feel the growl build in every breath the creature takes as it waits, ready to pounce on you any moment.

That was how he felt with Spock when he touched him. Like the half-Vulcan was ready to pounce on him any moment. And that thought made him shiver in anticipation.

* * *

"I don't get this."

They were sitting in the living room after finishing dinner that night, the fireplace keeping the room warm and comfortable. Commander Kirk was upstairs, busy with some chores. Jim, for a change, was not physically touching Spock at the moment, which was both a relief and like a perplexing tug of emptiness at his core. Jim's touch brought about reactions at both extremes of the spectrum in him. He both loved it and hated it and wanted that touch to continue, while also wanting Jim to behave and respect his boundaries with his mother around.

Spock did not know how to analyze the illogic of his reactions. So he concentrated on the words instead. "What are you referring to?" he asked.

"You made plans to visit your mom's family in Ontario how long ago? At least three weeks in advance, right?" Jim sounded puzzled. "And it wasn't until the last minute that they told you they were not going to be there?"

He realized where this was going. "That is correct."

"You don't find that a little odd, Spock?"

It suddenly occurred to him he had never explained why the plans had been cancelled.

"They had a valid reason, Jim," he began. "It was a family emergency that called them on such short notice. My cousin's daughter from a previous marriage was injured in a mining accident on Kelton II. That was the reason why he and his wife had to leave immediately."

"Oh." Jim sounded surprised. "I heard about that accident."

"As did I," Spock replied. "I had not been aware she was settled in Kelton II, however."

"How's she doing?"

"My last communiqué with Andrew was a message I received yesterday when the comm link was reestablished; it was sent four days ago. He informed me that his daughter was recovering adequately."

"That's good," Jim replied.

But he did not sound fully convinced. There had been another part of Jim's initial query that Spock had not fully answered.

So he attempted now. "Jim, Andrew is on the supportive side of my mother's family. There are others, who are not so...welcoming."

Jim was quiet for a moment. "Those other cousins you were talking about?"

Spock inclined his head. "My mother had two brothers - one elder and one younger. My eldest uncle was very fond of her, and was supportive of her decision to marry a Vulcan."

He looked at Jim. "The younger one was not. Andrew is the first son of my eldest uncle. His other siblings are settled off-planet. They all communicate adequately with me. Both my uncles are deceased now."

Jim's eyes were somber. "What about your grandparents?"

"While they were alive, they stayed supportive," Spock replied. "My grandfather died when I was 4.2 standard years old. My grandmother died three years ago."

"I'm sorry."

Spock tilted his head. "What is, is."

"So... Andrew is the good guy?" Jim asked carefully.

"I have no doubt that my younger uncle's offspring too are 'good guys.' They simply do not seem to support... interspecies marriages."

"That doesn't come under my definition of good." Jim scowled. "They sound xenophobic."

"I have not seen them in many years, Jim" Spock looked at his friend. "It makes no difference."

Jim stared at him a moment and then smiled softly. "You're right. I guess, it doesn't."

* * *

The next morning, Jim found himself downstairs in the kitchen, whipping up an omelet for breakfast before anyone else had even gotten out of his or her room.

His mother was the first one to make her way downstairs. He hadn't had a chance to sit and talk to her for the past couple days, seeing as he'd had his _hands_ kind of full lately. And he'd seen the looks she'd been giving him. He wondered how long it'd take her to jump on him.

She waited till she'd poured herself coffee before taking the plunge. "So... you and Spock, huh?"

Jim's heaved in a breath. "I really don't want to talk about this." Seriously. What was there to talk about anyways?

"What did I say?" She stared at him. "I'm just curious about my son's love life."

He rolled his eyes. "Which you've never shown interest in before."

"Hey, it's never too late to start. We said we were going for fresh starts."

"And we are, Mom." He sighed.

"So... you and Spock," she prodded again.

He felt exasperated. "What about us?"

"You're still sleeping separately."

"Christ, Mom." He stared at her in shock. "Yes, we are."

"Hmm." She raised a brow and watched him. She waited.

"Jeez." He huffed in a breath. "Spock wants to wait."

She frowned. "Wait? For what?"

Jim lowered his voice. "For us to get back to the ship."

She looked at him as if he was a lunatic. "What?"

He breathed out. "Yes. It's all very... logical."

"Logical."

"And I agree with that logic," he insisted

"Okay," she said slowly. "So what the hell you are waiting for?"

He frowned. "I just told you..."

She cut him off. "No, I mean... what the hell are you waiting for _here_? Go back! To the ship!"

Jim felt dumbfounded. "But..."

"Christmas is over." She looked at him. "Your vacations are almost over. You should go."

"But I thought you..." His sentence crumbled before it could finish forming completely.

She looked at him incredulously. "You're telling me you're sitting here getting a terminal case of blue balls on _my_ account? "

"It's only two days left," Jim offered weakly.

"Exactly."

"Hmm." Jim picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. "Now that you put it _that_ way."

And now that he thought of it, Spock hadn't said anything about wanting to stay here for all twelve days of down time. He was only doing that for Jim's sake. Spock had just told him he wanted to wait till they'd gone back to the ship before beginning any intimate relations. That could happen any time. That could have happened... two days ago. Jim suddenly wanted to beat his head against the wall.

"Tell him." His mother was smiling at him. "I'm sure he'll find it very logical."

* * *

He found Spock in the study just before lunch. He had an open volume of _Shakespeare's Collections_ on his lap, which he seemed to be perusing intently.

However, the moment Jim rested a hand on his shoulder, he froze, sighed in deeply and snapped closed the book.

"It is no use."

Jim looked down at his face. "What is no use?"

"Meditation," Spock muttered. "I spent 6.5 hours last night trying to strengthen my mental shields. And after one touch of your hand upon my person, they have crumbled."

"So that's why you were so late for breakfast." Jim mused. He grinned. "You are aware I'm touching you through your _clothes_ at the moment."

Spock sounded agitated. "Indeed."

Jim nodded; the situation truly had come to a head. He moved from behind Spock and took a seat in front of him. "So, I'm thinking - we should probably get back to the ship."

Spock looked at him contemplatively. "We still have two days left of our vacation."

Jim watched his eyes. "Yeah, but... I was just... curious about how all the repair work's coming along."

Spock raised a brow. "_Is_ that what you are curious about?"

Jim stared at him and grabbed Spock's hand. "We really should get back. Really."

A furrow appeared between Spock's brows. "Do you not think you are being somewhat impatient?"

Jim groaned. "It's not my fault you've got me all hot and bothered."

Spock looked down at Jim's finger stroking his palm and tilted his head. "There is an irony in your statement, but I probably should not point it out."

"You can point it out all your want," Jim growled. "We should still get going."

Spock looked up at him. "What would your mother think?"

Jim sighed. "She's the one who made the suggestion."

That got Spock's attention. "I beg your pardon?"

Jim huffed out loudly. "She thinks we're crazy sitting here freezing our asses off, when we could be on the _Enterprise_ fucking our brains out."

Spock look horrified. "Did she actually say-"

"Not in so many words, Spock, but the message was the same." Jim sighed. "She thinks we're nuts."

Spock assessed his words and probably the strangeness of the universe for approximately 12.5 seconds, and then straightened up on the seat. "Very well. When do we leave?"

Jim wanted to whoop with joy. He smiled. "In two hours."

* * *

As excited as he was about going back to the _Enterprise_, it was still hard saying goodbye to his mother.

Jim knew they'd made progress in the last few days. A lot of things he'd never understood in the past had suddenly become clear to him. His mother's difficulty with getting past his father's death, for one, and her obsession with the War Orphans program, for another, when she had a war orphan living right under her own roof. He knew they'd both punished themselves, and each other, for years.

But he knew he was ready to move beyond all those ghosts from the past. They'd both made a fresh start. He was happy about that.

He hugged her for a long time as they stood at the open door, the hovercar waiting for them. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Then she pulled back, looked between him and Spock and smiled impishly.

"My little boy is all grown up."

Jim wanted to smack his forehead. "Jesus, Mom."

But she was laughing. "Look how beautiful you two look."

"Mrs. Kirk." Even Spock sounded exasperated.

"Mom, shut up," Jim muttered.

"Okay, okay, fine." She grinned at them. "Now get out of here. Send me a postcard, you lovebirds."

"Don't listen to her," he told Spock, picking up his bags and moving out of the door. "She's out of her mind."

She patted Spock on his arm. "Bye boys."

"Good bye, Mrs. Kirk," Spock replied with a polite nod.

Jim smiled. "Bye, Mom."

Spock joined him on the driveway. Jim looked at him a long moment, then opened the hovercar door. They put their bags in the back seat and Jim got into the driver's seat, Spock joining him on the passenger side.

Jim waved at his mother once as he pulled the car out, and then they were headed back to the base.

* * *

Apparently, they weren't the only ones willing to forego the last two days of their vacation to come back to the ship early.

Jim was surprised to find Scotty manning the transporter when they beamed back home. The engineer looked a little harried as he jumped up from his seat and came out from behind the console.

"Thank goodness you and the Commander are back, Captain." He looked somewhat comical, standing there with his eyes widened in sheer horror. "You won't believe what these buggers are doing to my engines."

Jim looked at Spock in consternation as he got grabbed and herded towards the door. The half-Vulcan followed them at a more sedate pace, one slanted brow raised in what appeared to be amusement.

"Scotty, I just got back," Jim tried to protest. "I still have my bags with me."

"Not a problem, Captain." Scotty signaled the security officer standing at attention inside the doors, and the ensign promptly came forward to take the captain's bags from his hands. "Now that that's taken care of, you must come with me at once." He looked at Spock. "You should probably check out the Botany Lab, Commander. I heard there was a slight mishap with the environmental controls last night."

Jim watched the raised brow twitch at this news. "Indeed?"

"Aye." The engineer nodded. "The gravitational field in cubicle 14 failed. I think one of Sulu's rare plants bit the dust."

Jim groaned. _Man_, it was good to be back.

* * *

It took three hours of deliberations, mediations, and consolations to calm Scotty down and bring the chaos in engineering down to manageable levels. He was having problems with every single one of the replacement engineers working in his department, insisting that they were a conspiracy. They were hell-bent on running down his engines, the power relays in the secondary support systems were being rewired the wrong way, and the dilithium reactor was making a noise he'd never bloody well heard in his life. And, on top of that, they'd even dismantled his still, which did not actually exist on the ship's blueprints, and yet which, according to him, had worked part-time as a power generation unit and was a viable engineering section and should not have been messed with.

Jim had to argue and confer with three sets of engineers. He didn't know whether it was the power of his influence, or the fact that Scotty was threatening to throw the other two guys into the antimatter chamber, but he finally prevailed and the chaos was brought under control. He even made sure the dismantled still would be refitted and added to the blueprints as _specialized tertiary backup power generator unit. _

Scotty stopped yelling after that and Jim breathed a sigh of relief. He'd made a call earlier to the Botany Lab and Spock seemed to have things well in hand.

By the time he got to his quarters and stepped into the shower, Jim was about ready to fall down face first into bed and pass out for the night. However, after five minutes under the hot water, his senses started to wake up, slowly but surely. The water beat down over his head, running down his body in rivulets and it felt as if all the tension he had accumulated in the last few hours was melting from his bones and swirling down the drain at his feet.

He closed his eyes and remembered the last ten days in Riverside. He remembered the Vulcan kiss under the mistletoe; the way Spock kept his face impassive but could not help the slow blush that spread across his cheeks when Jim murmured something sexy. By the time he got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips, he was whistling. He quickly dried himself and got into a comfortable t-shirt and cotton drawstring pants—relaxing clothes.

He was munching on an apple and sipping from a glass of juice when his door chimed. He looked at the chronometer. It was just after nine. He threw the apple core in the recycler, put his empty glass on the table and pressed the door panel, which opened to reveal the object of his considerations.

"Hey, Spock," Jim greeted him with a smile as he looked his friend up and down. Spock had changed and dressed in his off-duty clothes of choice: a plain black t-shirt and trousers, which had always made him look good enough to eat. While Jim had never before thought of Spock in exactly those terms, it was intriguing how he'd always appreciated his dressing sense. "I trust the disaster was averted?"

Spock looked closely at him, his dark brown eyes intent on his face. "I do not know if 'averted' is an appropriate word to use in this instance. Perhaps... 'contained' would be a more logical choice."

"Ah; 'contained.'" Jim chuckled. "That's what I've been doing all evening. That'll have to do for now." He stepped back from the door. "Come on in."

Spock stepped inside and the door closed behind him.

Jim turned to pick up the glass and suddenly wondered if Spock had eaten dinner or not. He turned to his friend. "Did you want to eat anyth-"

The words died in his mouth when he saw the look on Spock's face. It was the look of a great big cat about to pounce on its prey.

Then Spock stepped forward until he was standing right in his space, put a hand on Jim's chest and pressed him into the wall next to the door. Then, that beautiful cupid's bow mouth descended and was suddenly pressed against his, and a wet tongue was licking at the seam of his mouth. There was no point in engaging his higher brain functions after that.

Jim closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and moaned as that sexy as sin mouth slanted sideways and kissed Jim into oblivion. Spock's lips were hot and soft and hard and dry and somehow wet all at the same time. Jim didn't realize his hands were caught in a strong grip until he made a move to wrap them around Spock's shoulders and found Spock was holding them in his hands on both sides of his head.

He moaned in protest. He wanted to touch him, he wanted to hold him. But rather than giving him any leeway, Spock slid a leg between Jim's and pressed even closer, making Jim shudder as he felt a long, hard thigh slide against his erection which was suddenly ready to burst out of his pants.

He groaned, but that hot Vulcan mouth was merciless against Jim's, the soft but firm lips sliding over and over his open mouth - first the upper lip, then the lower - as that probing tongue slid between his teeth and tangled with his own. Jim tried to thrust against the hard body, needing friction for his cock, but Spock's grip was too strong, and it only made Jim writhe in frustration.

He moaned against Spock's lips, and then moaned again, this time in disappointment, as Spock suddenly lifted his mouth from his. Jim opened his eyes and stared into Spock's, which were darkened with lust. His gaze slid to Spock's mouth and he shuddered when he saw it glistening with saliva.

"Spock, c'mon," he sighed, and, in answer, Spock adjusted the grip of both his hands, lifted them over his head and then holding Jim's hands clutched in his grasp, he shifted the grip to one hand only so that he had his other hand free. Then, keeping his eyes locked with Jim's, he slid his free hand into Jim's hair, stroking his fingers through the still-wet strands, rubbing the pads against the skin of his scalp. "Mmm, yeah," Jim murmured, closing his eyes, and he yelped when he felt teeth gnawing against his chin. "Spock," he moaned as he felt the teeth nibble down the line of his throat, writhing against the hard Vulcan body pressing into him, with both his hands gripped against the wall in a firm hold.

He panted as he felt Spock's tongue sliding up his throat, his lips pressing hot kisses along the same path interspersed with teasing nibbles, as his cock twitched achingly hard against the confines of his clothes. Then the fingers in his hair curled into a fist and he felt his hair gripped with sharp tug as his eyes snapped open and he stared into Spock's sparkling gaze.

"Please," he murmured, and then Spock had pressed fully against his body, his own hardness poking Jim in his stomach through two layers of clothing, as he tilted Jim's head with his hand and slid his mouth against Jim's again. The kiss was hard and scorching and beautiful and agonizing. It was all teeth and tongues and gorgeous fucking lips killing him and kissing him and devouring him and tantalizing him with their licks and nips and swipes and _oh god the heat and the pressure was going to be the end of him_.

It took him a few seconds to realize his hands had suddenly been let go and the pressure on his scalp had been removed. That was when he noticed the two warm Vulcan hands cupping his face now, Spock rubbing his thumbs against Jim's cheeks as he kissed him over and over and fucking over, until Jim was all but thrusting into the little gap between their bodies, his arms tight around Spock's body and thrusting against Spock's thighs, and moaning because it was not enough, not fucking _enough_. And then Spock was dragging his lips across Jim's cheek and swiping his tongue into the whorl of Jim's right ear, all the while rubbing his body languidly against Jim's.

When he suddenly bit into the soft skin of the earlobe, Jim yelled and felt his cock erupt inside his pants. With a long drawn-out moan, he shuddered and shook and panted for a few seconds, the aftershocks wracking his frame, and he would've folded to the ground if it weren't for Spock's arms sliding around him, holding him in place.

Jim pressed his face into Spock's neck and willed his heartbeat to come down from the galloping speed as he felt Spock's hands rubbing his back gently. After a moment, he straightened up and looked at Spock, who looked far too self-satisfied for his liking.

Spock's voice was gravelly and hot like fuck as he murmured, "I believe that is how humans... kiss?"

Jim laughed, his own voice sounding shaky to his ears. "I don't think I know any humans who kiss quite like that, Spock."

Spock raised one slanted brow as his hands continued to move over his back, softly, gently. "Are you saying this was not a satisfactory demonstration?"

"Oh, it was satisfactory, all right," Jim hummed as he felt himself melt into the slow strokes. He leaned forward to brush his lips against those other, tantalizing ones. "_More_ than satisfactory."

He smiled. "I also believe you make a very hot smug bastard, Spock."

Spock looked at him. "Such a title is illogical. I assure you both my parents were married at the time I was conceived."

"Mmmmm okay." Jim bit at Spock's chin. "And I must inform you that I just came in my pants."

"Is that another complaint, Jim?" Spock asked as he slowly thrust his hips against Jim's and Jim realized he was still hard. Oh _fuck! _

"Nnnngh." He groaned. "My pants, Spock. I came in my pants. I just got dressed... fifteen minutes ago."

"Perhaps, you should not have bothered dressing," Spock murmured into his ear. "However, that oversight can be remedied immediately."

Jim sighed, sagging further into Spock's arms "Yeah?"

Suddenly Spock froze, his hand stilled. Jim looked up into his eyes questioningly.

"If you wish for me to stop," Spock said slowly, his eyes serious, "please say so right now."

"Stop?" Jim looked at him in confusion. "What the hell are you...?" He felt baffled. "Are you cra-"

Spock cut him off as if that answer was satisfactory enough, "Very well!"

And then Jim was gripped firmly and walked purposefully out of the living room and into his bedroom where he was deposited, without much fanfare, onto the bed. He looked up at Spock hovering above him and grinned happily.

"That was fast."

Spock leaned over him, his eyes wandering the plains of Jim's face interestingly. "Your lips turn a most enticing color after they have been... kissed in the human way," he noted.

Jim reached for him. "Which is a clue for you to resume kissing me immediately."

Spock gripped Jim's hands and held them over his head. "I will remove your clothes now." His dark eyes probed Jim lustfully.

God, that _look_ on his face. Jim couldn't get over how hot his sober, controlled First Officer could be. "Nnngh yeah; my pants first, Spock."

Spock let go off his hands, gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head and off, throwing it to the side. "Cease talking."

"Please," Jim murmured as Spock rubbed his fingers lightly down Jim's chest, then gripped his hips in his hands for a moment, his eyes roaming Jim's body, before pulling the drawstring pants down and off his body. He watched Spock's gaze slide down to his spent cock and felt it twitch at the heat in those eyes.

Then Spock stood up, keeping his eyes on Jim's face as he took off first his shirt, then his trousers, leaving only the black briefs on. Jim groaned when he saw the outline of Spock's erection tenting the fabric.

Then Spock was sliding on top of him and gripping his hands once more as he leaned down to slot his lips against Jim's again. Jim lost himself in the sweetness and passion of the kiss, Spock's tongue picking up where it had left off as the firm mouth rubbed against his. The lips opened and closed around his with calculated precision, the firmness and the wetness of their contact making Jim hard once more.

When Spock lifted his mouth from his, Jim could see the blood darkening the skin of his neck and his face enticingly and he thrust against Spock's body, feeling the hot, hard length of Spock's cock pressing into his thigh through the briefs.

"Please - I want to touch you," he said, looking deeply into Spock's eyes, and, after a moment, Spock relented, his eyes soft, his mouth curved into a gentle smile.

"You may," he murmured as he let go of Jim's hands and slid his own hands around Jim's waist as he lowered his mouth to Jim's sternum, kissing gently, his tongue lapping at the skin as Jim arched at the touch.

Jim ran his hands down Spock's back, feeling the strong muscles moving as Spock slid down his chest, gently biting, kissing, nipping, licking at his nipples, his chest muscles, his stomach, with Jim writhing in absolute bliss. "Fuck, Spock," Jim groaned, as he felt Spock kissing down his stomach, then along his hipbones, before he nuzzled into Jim's swiftly awakening cock. "_Fuck! _" Jim cried as Spock took the glistening head into his warm, wet mouth, as his hand slid down to grip the base firmly, his tongue expertly and purposefully cleaning up the ejaculate from the last time.

By the time he was through, Jim was achingly hard again and Spock was gripping and spreading Jim's thighs firmly. Before he knew what was happening, Spock had taken one of Jim's testicles into his mouth, his catlike tongue bathing first one, then the other, making them thoroughly wet, as Jim writhed, groaning wantonly. _Oh God, that felt too fucking good_.

Then that mouth was moving even lower and at the first swipe of Spock's tongue against his hole, Jim made a sound he had never heard come out of his mouth as his hands scrabbled for purchase and then settled on Spock's head, the fingers sliding into the silky, soft strands. _Jesus Fucking Christ_. Spock repeated the action, once, twice, then again, and again, until Jim could feel his cock twitching against his stomach, leaking precum profusely, as his hole twitched against the insistent tongue. "Please," he begged, "_please_."

Spock slid up Jim's body, his mouth looking bruised and beautiful and his eyes fucking glittering in the low light of the bedroom. "Fuck," Jim moaned as he gripped Spock's arms and pulled him up so that he could kiss him thoroughly. _Fucking fuck_. He moaned at the taste of his own essence on Spock's tongue. "C'mere," he murmured as he kissed that beautiful mouth. "Please, just..."

His hand slid down Spock's chest, rubbing through the thatch of soft curly hair covering his chest and abdomen, then down to Spock's hips where his fingers scratched at the hem of his briefs. God, he wanted Spock naked now. _Fuck_.

Apparently, Spock had the same idea, as he suddenly twisted and turned and pulled one knee up, and then, with a kick of his legs had pulled his briefs down and off. He turned to Jim, his breathing hard. "Where is the..."

He kissed Jim hard, then pressed his hips against Jim, his cock sliding hot and hard and dripping wet against his stomach, and Jim suddenly knew what he wanted.

He gripped Spock's arms with one hand and pointed to the bedside table. "In there."

Spock leaned over and opened the drawer, finding the condoms and lube. Then he straightened up on his knees and watching Jim's face intently, gripped his legs, spread them open, and then pulled them up and over his shoulders. Jim didn't know when he opened the lube – only that a long lubed finger was suddenly pressing against his hole and rubbing gently, but firmly. He was already wet and a little loose from Spock's oral ministrations earlier, so when the finger slid inside, he barely grunted, just watched Spock's face as the finger gently loosened him. One finger became two, and two became three, and Jim found himself thrusting into the digits, groaning loudly, his chest heaving, his cock twitching.

Spock pulled his fingers out, pulled on the condom over his beautiful long cock, slicked himself up with more lube, and was pressing into him.

Jim moaned as he felt himself stretch around the head, breathing in hard as Spock slid into him completely, feeling his balls resting against his ass. He waited a second or two, and then pulled out and slid in again, the stretch burning Jim from the inside out.

He ran his hands up Spock's chest, scratching at the hair, tweaking his dusky nipples, and marveling at the hard, lean, masculine lines before him as he jerked his hips back up at him, crying out at the perfect feeling of fullness. Then Spock leaned down and lined his lips against Jim's again.

Jim didn't know whether it was the twist of his movement or if Spock had angled his downward thrust differently, but Jim suddenly felt that familiar spark as his prostate was touched and he yelled, clutching at Spock as he shuddered at the sensation. "God," he panted as Spock gripped his face and kissed him again, as he fucked into him, harder, faster, his eyes shimmering. He repeated that angle, over and over, rendering Jim completely incoherent as he felt his whole body shaking and shuddering at the onslaught of ecstasy.

Spock looked so fucking _beautiful_ like this. Jim watched the play of muscles as his body moved, the thickly furred chest expanding and contracting with every breath, his throat working, his wide, strong shoulders shifting as he leaned down to press his mouth against Jim's again. Spock's hips slammed into him repeatedly, filling Jim with his thickness, the sweat rolling down Jim's body as he felt his whole body trembling against Spock's.

"Jim," he heard Spock moan as he wound his arms around him, scratching at his back, his nails digging into his skin as he leaned up to kiss along Spock's throat, feeling his pulse throbbing faster than anything he'd even felt. He felt the tremors in Spock's limbs as he slammed into Jim, his face twisted in concentration, his throat swallowing, his teeth biting into his lower lip.

And then he saw Spock's eyes roll back in his head as his mouth fell open, a groan emitting from the back of his throat, and the movements of his hips became faster, jerkier and Jim moaned at the sight of absolute abandon on Spock's face, as his own orgasm hit and a harsh cry erupted from his mouth, his cock pulsing out streams of cum, his vision blacking out for a moment.

When he came back to his senses, Spock was collapsed on top of him and Jim's legs were wrapped around his waist. They both lay together like that for a few moments, as they regained their breathing. Then, with a sigh, Spock moved and carefully pulled out as he rolled to the side, disposing of the condom. Jim was still in a hazy place, his limbs filled with the delicious ache of a hard, fast fuck that he knew he would remember for days, when he felt Spock slide out of his arms and go somewhere. Before he could protest, though, his heart thumping in his chest, Spock was back and Jim blearily opened his eyes when he felt a warm cloth rub against his groin, cleaning him gently.

Then Spock was pulling down the covers and shifting Jim so that he was somehow under the covers and Spock was there with him, and all Jim could do was murmur, "_Thanks_," and throw his arms around the warm, hard body, squeezing him close.

"Sleep, Jim," he heard Spock whisper.

"Stay," Jim murmured.

"I am not going anywhere," he heard him reply.

And then, Jim fell asleep.

* * *

Spock came to wakefulness slowly, aware that he was not in his quarters, but in the captain's bed.

He let the memories of the previous night wash over him, and, in the silence of the early hour, with the warm, sated human wrapped around him, he allowed himself a small smile of contentment.

He did not need a mindmeld to know his human was completely contented with the proceedings of their night together. There was a hum of satisfaction permeating Jim's whole body, his limbs loose with a happy laziness, his resting mind at utter ease as he burrowed into Spock's embrace. The abandon with which Jim had given himself to Spock last night filled him with a sense of protectiveness he had never felt before. Yes, he had always felt the need to protect his shipmate, his comrade, and his friend, but what he was feeling right now made his insides clench with a sense of possessiveness and need and a suffusion of sweltering emotions he had only allowed himself to feel in the solitude of his thoughts.

The ache of watching his friend in pain, even if that pain had been due to things in the past, made his jaw clench with a need to destroy anyone who dared to lay a finger on his human. _Never again_, he vowed to himself. Never again would he allow anyone to hurt his _k'diwa_ like that. Not as long as he lived.

He tightened his hold around the human, pressing his lips into the juncture of his neck and shoulders, and kissed softly. A few moments later, he felt Jim stir, and, as he came to wakefulness, the human burrowed even deeper into Spock's arms, the strong limbs tangling with his own enticingly. Spock pressed a kiss into Jim's forehead and felt the languid smile spread on the human's face as he nuzzled into Spock's neck.

After a moment, Jim lifted his head and Spock found himself looking into bright blue eyes that were completely awake. A smile crinkled the skin around the eyes and the corners of his lips twitched. "Hey, Spock."

"Good morning, Jim," he murmured as Jim leaned in to kiss him softly, his hands rubbing over Spock's sides soothingly.

"So last night _wasn't_ a dream. It really happened," Jim sighed. "How did I get to be so lucky, huh?"

Spock did not know how to answer that, the skin to skin contact of Jim's body sliding against his had permeated his senses with a pleasant buzz of satisfaction. "Jim," was all he could say as he felt cool hands caressing the skin of his abdomen, the lithe fingers entangling into the fine hair found there.

Jim nuzzled his neck a moment, dropping kisses haphazardly, then looked up into Spock's eyes.

"_God_, you're so beautiful," he breathed. A crooked smile twisted his lips. "I must commend you, Mr. Spock. Last night was the most amazing sex I've ever had."

Spock ran his hands up Jim's back to his neck, then slid his fingers into the soft, curly hair that looked perplexingly endearing, despite standing up in all directions in the most ridiculous way. "Flattery, Captain," he murmured, "will get you everywhere."

"Everywhere?" Jim looked at him interestedly. His eyes flashed with mischief. "How about a turn at _your_ delectable ass then?"

_Everywhere_, Spock thought. _Anything and everything_. Whatever Jim wanted was his. He was Jim's, just as Jim was his. Forever.

But Spock did not say any of that, for he knew it was too soon for these words. Instead, he leaned back into the warm covers, and let his limbs fall open invitingly as he laid back languidly, his eyes locking with Jim's in a heated gaze. "Very well," he murmured, knowing that hint of a smile was visible on his lips. "You may do with me as you wish."

Jim watched him intently, his eyes dancing, the color on his face rising exponentially as the rate of his breathing increased. Spock watched him lick his lips and the smile widened. "Now you're talking," he growled as he leaned down, gripped Spock's arms in his hands, and pressed their lips together.

* * *

"What are we going to tell Sulu?"

It was nighttime and they were in the commissary for dinner. There was a buzz of activity around as the crew slowly but steadily returned to the ship. Chekov had returned this afternoon, while Sulu and Uhura were due back tomorrow – just in time for the New Years party being arranged in the main rec room. Jim had heard from Bones an hour ago, saying he was returning tonight as well, so he was probably either back already or was just about to beam back.

Spock picked up the tray and filled it with his choice of dishes. "Do not be concerned, Jim. We were able to save three specimens of the Forgassia Pitcher Plant."

"We were?" Jim picked up a bowl of fruit and grabbed a sandwich from the pile. "That's a relief."

"Indeed."

They made their way to their table and settled down. Jim had just taken a bite when he noticed McCoy walk in. He waved his friend over and watched as the doctor walked over to their table, looking fresh and relaxed.

"Bones, how was the vacation?" he asked as the doctor joined them at their table, nodding at them both in greeting. "Grab some food."

"I've already eaten." McCoy shook his head, a happy smile on his face. "And my vacation was great. Joanna was asking about you." The mention of his daughter made even Mr. Grumpy happy.

McCoy paused then looked closely at Jim. "What's up with you?"

"Me?" Jim grinned. "I'm fabulous."

McCoy looked at him strangely for a moment. Then his eyes moved to Jim's throat, and Jim suddenly realized what he was looking at - the hickey from last night, when Spock had enthusiastically made him come in his pants standing next to the door.

"Is that... is that what I think it is?" McCoy sounded disturbed. "Didn't you... go _home_ for Christmas?"

"Yeah." Jim shrugged. "What? Can't I score some while I'm home?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Honestly? I don't want to know."

Jim's eyebrows waggled. "Are you sure?" He felt Spock straighten up in his seat. Well, tough shit - it was his fault the hickey showed. He could've used his regenerator to heal it, but Jim suspected his lover liked that little mark of possession showing on his body.

Jim knew what that felt like; he'd left several such marks on Spock this morning, and then again in the afternoon. And then again, just a couple of hours ago, after Spock had returned from the gym, looking deliciously disheveled. It wasn't his fault he couldn't get enough of his First Officer. Next time, though, he'd be sure to leave a mark in a place where it was visible for the world to see.

"Positive," McCoy said, his nose scrunched up in disgust. "Keep your dirty secrets to yourself."

Jim picked up his sandwich and took a bite. "That's okay," he said nonchalantly as he swallowed. "I only went with Spock."

McCoy started, a frown on his face. "Spock."

"Umm hmm."

Bones must have seen something on his face because his eyes suddenly widened - with horror. "Spock?" He looked between the two of them. His mouth dropped open.

"Don't look so shocked." Jim smiled widely. "It was quite spectacular."

"Jim." Spock heaved in a breath.

"What? It's just Bones." Jim looked at him. "He'll find out at our next physicals anyhow."

Spock looked at him with infinite patience, his eyes amused, and then turned to Bones who was still gaping at them quite comically. "Doctor, perhaps you should close your mouth before... something flies into it."

"Yeah," Jim snorted, then frowned as he turned to Spock. "Do we have flies on the _Enterprise_?"

Spock glanced at him. "No, we do not."

"Okay." He looked at his First Officer seriously. "The next Amazon planet we stop at, remind me to order up some flies. We can breed them in the Science lab." He chuckled as he turned to Bones who was now glaring at them both. "For occasions like this."

With a growl, Bones snapped shut his mouth. "Oh, shut up." His nostrils were flaring and his mood looked thoroughly ruined.

Spock looked inordinately pleased as he sipped his tea.

Jim smiled. This was going to be _so_ much fun.

* * *

The next morning he got a message from his mom saying Headquarters had called both her and Watson for another debriefing. He messaged back with a good luck wish, keeping his fingers crossed that everything would work out for her.

The rest of the crew slowly trickled back during the day and it was during the New Years Party held that night, that he handed his holocamera to Chekov and dragged Spock to stand with him in front of the viewport for a nice shot. He could see Bones scowling in a corner, and Uhura giving them a baffled look from the other side of the room, but Chekov was all exuberant smiles and innocent encouragement as he asked them to "_stand a little closer, Kommander_", making Jim crack up unabashedly.

When the shot was taken, he turned to Spock, who was giving him a look, and shrugged. "What? It's for my mom."

Spock only raised his brows before acquiescing, but Jim could see the corners of his lips twitch, and knew that was all the emotion Spock would show in public.

But that was okay, he mused. No one but Bones had any clue what Spock had become to him over the course of the last ten days, and even he really didn't know the _hows_ and the _whys_. But these were all their friends – their family. They would find out eventually, and when they did, they would be happy for both of them. He just knew it. Even Bones would be. They'd have to be. He wouldn't have it any other way.

He had the most perfect man in the quadrant standing next to him. He felt like he could conquer the universe. With Spock by his side, he could accomplish anything.

With a smile, he led Spock into the crowd and joined his friends and crew in welcoming in the New Year.

**THE END**


End file.
